NPC/ My Characters
Name: Lathronien 'Ghost-Eye'
Age, Gender, Race: 72, Female, Elf (Nandor)
Appearance: Only a little over two decades and a half till she reaches her majority, Lathronien has the cast of youthfulness about her. With dark black hair raggedly cut to hide her ears and keep it short, and blue eyes so pale they almost appear white. she was aptly named 'Ghost-Eye'. She is not of average height for a elf of her age, reaching only the shoulders of her kin that average 6 feet she grows slower. But she is growing, none the less. Her form graceful, if not a bit underweight. A beautiful face, she was oftening smiling. Mocking, laughing, or just in pleased delight. Though now she often looks haunted. Her back is horrendously scarred, something she keeps hidden. Though she cannot keep the stiffness or curl of her right hand hidden. Her pinky and ring finger of that hand move more stiffly than the others and seem to curl against her palm all too willingly. Lathronien wears a simple brown tunic, over a shirt with a tad too long sleeves that are quickly getting just barely long enough and breeches. Dressing more like a male than a female for movement. With boots, cloak, and a cowl, she also wears a set of gloves when she can. She wields two knives tucked into the top of her boots, a third at her waist along with a elegant- yet small- sword. A bow and quiver of arrows are strapped to her back.
Equipment: A short sword of Man-make. Five daggers of the same make. Two in each boot, one at her waist and two on her wrists. A secret purse is hidden inside of her tunic. A bow and quiver with arrows of Man-make. Her coin purse is light and holds merely enough for food and a cheap room. She has one large coin hidden in her boot.
Personality: Lathronien, unlike her elders, is not reserved in the least. She's open with her thoughts, though she is attaining a polished edge to it- it's a uphill battle. She respects art and poetry like others of her race, but refuses to comment upon them or stay about- especially when it is Elvish. Fierce, she has the youthful drive that she can take on the world and win. But for her blunt and fierce mannerism, she is more akin to take to the shadows and go unnoticed when around the towns of Man or grand halls of Elves. Reserving her natural self for the few number of lesser masses. Though when in such areas, items do tend to have a habit of disappearing and reappearing in her possession. Something she will blatantly deny. She keeps her secrets tightly guarded, not allowing any to learn of them.
Story: The goals for Lathronien are to see if she could find a healer for her hand, and to potentially see more of Arda before she leaves for the Valar. Her cheif interest lies in Angmar and the remains of Moria. Both places that interest her, though heading to the South to see what lies pass Gondor and what remains of Mordor.
Biography: She's alone, for a Elven child this is rare. But the reason why is not so strange, though Lathronien will not say why to any. She lived on the southern fringes of Mirkwood. Her mother and father both rather having the quietness and peace it brought, enjoying the solitude. However it was a costly mistake to be so far from the protection of others and dismiss the dangers. Her parents were killed fighting some of the more fearsome creatures (She does not remember what exactly.). It was during this her back was torn to shreds when she was struck down and a section of their home fell upon her. A portion of her hand was damaged by this leaving it partly paralyzed and damaged. After extracting herself she fled the forest, not knowing where to go and only knowing to run. It can be safely and correctly assumed she's lived among Men for a time, hiding her identity well, and thieving to survive. She joined the caravan to get to a town that would not notice her as Bree had begun to.
Age, Gender, Race: 72, Female, Elf (Nandor)
Appearance: Only a little over two decades and a half till she reaches her majority, Lathronien has the cast of youthfulness about her. With dark black hair raggedly cut to hide her ears and keep it short, and blue eyes so pale they almost appear white. she was aptly named 'Ghost-Eye'. She is not of average height for a elf of her age, reaching only the shoulders of her kin that average 6 feet she grows slower. But she is growing, none the less. Her form graceful, if not a bit underweight. A beautiful face, she was oftening smiling. Mocking, laughing, or just in pleased delight. Though now she often looks haunted. Her back is horrendously scarred, something she keeps hidden. Though she cannot keep the stiffness or curl of her right hand hidden. Her pinky and ring finger of that hand move more stiffly than the others and seem to curl against her palm all too willingly. Lathronien wears a simple brown tunic, over a shirt with a tad too long sleeves that are quickly getting just barely long enough and breeches. Dressing more like a male than a female for movement. With boots, cloak, and a cowl, she also wears a set of gloves when she can. She wields two knives tucked into the top of her boots, a third at her waist along with a elegant- yet small- sword. A bow and quiver of arrows are strapped to her back.
Equipment: A short sword of Man-make. Five daggers of the same make. Two in each boot, one at her waist and two on her wrists. A secret purse is hidden inside of her tunic. A bow and quiver with arrows of Man-make. Her coin purse is light and holds merely enough for food and a cheap room. She has one large coin hidden in her boot.
Personality: Lathronien, unlike her elders, is not reserved in the least. She's open with her thoughts, though she is attaining a polished edge to it- it's a uphill battle. She respects art and poetry like others of her race, but refuses to comment upon them or stay about- especially when it is Elvish. Fierce, she has the youthful drive that she can take on the world and win. But for her blunt and fierce mannerism, she is more akin to take to the shadows and go unnoticed when around the towns of Man or grand halls of Elves. Reserving her natural self for the few number of lesser masses. Though when in such areas, items do tend to have a habit of disappearing and reappearing in her possession. Something she will blatantly deny. She keeps her secrets tightly guarded, not allowing any to learn of them.
Story: The goals for Lathronien are to see if she could find a healer for her hand, and to potentially see more of Arda before she leaves for the Valar. Her cheif interest lies in Angmar and the remains of Moria. Both places that interest her, though heading to the South to see what lies pass Gondor and what remains of Mordor.
Biography: She's alone, for a Elven child this is rare. But the reason why is not so strange, though Lathronien will not say why to any. She lived on the southern fringes of Mirkwood. Her mother and father both rather having the quietness and peace it brought, enjoying the solitude. However it was a costly mistake to be so far from the protection of others and dismiss the dangers. Her parents were killed fighting some of the more fearsome creatures (She does not remember what exactly.). It was during this her back was torn to shreds when she was struck down and a section of their home fell upon her. A portion of her hand was damaged by this leaving it partly paralyzed and damaged. After extracting herself she fled the forest, not knowing where to go and only knowing to run. It can be safely and correctly assumed she's lived among Men for a time, hiding her identity well, and thieving to survive. She joined the caravan to get to a town that would not notice her as Bree had begun to.
Name: Darcyn Telcontar
Age, Gender, Race: 36, Male, Man
Appearance: Darcyn is a tall man, standing at six foot one. His hair is lank and could be any colour under the grim, though it's brown in reality. With a thick, unkempt beard his face appears older than his years and haggard. His brown eyes are filled with hatred and some sort of blood lust. Wearing a mixture of armor from Gondor and Rohan. A chest plate, with matching greaves covers a shirt of chain mail. He wears tough leather leggings and boots, a helm of the Rohirrim style. At his waist, a sword, and on his back, a shield. He aslo has a horn and two daggers with him. When not in armor, he wears a simple shirt and tunic, with breeches- often wore and hard used. His body is fit, if a bit chubby about the middle, and he bares more scars than a sane man should.
Equipment: Armor from Gondor and Rohan which consists of leather leggins, boots, and a chest plate. His helm is of Rohan make. Two daggers on his belt, one in his boot. Under this he has a chain mail shirt, and when not wearing his gear he reverts to a stained shirt and tunic, and worn breeches. He also wields a sword and a shield with the emblem of a blue swan.
Personality: To put things in the simplest of terms would be best for Darcyn, he was never the sharpest nor the best political man. Darcyn is a man of doing, a man who thinks his race superior and himself best of all. The world focuses on him and for anyone else to interfere in his spotlight would be a blemish he could not allow. This often causes fights and ends him up either in trouble or in the middle of a brawl. He also will never, ever admit a elf may be better at sword play than he, or that dwarves are not related to goblins. This idea must have been come by in a drunken stupor. A womanizing, pig-headed man. He sees his way as the only way. Darcyn is crude at the best of times and down right volatile at the worst of times, taking his fury out on those about him. His only loves are gold, himself and arguably fighting. The bloodier, the better.
Story: He wants to go into the mountains and hunt down Orcs, exterminate their horrid race along with the goblins and trolls. He will most likely be found by most as the type of man he is and cause problems and discord. He is not about to help the people about him, but he is a good fighter.
Biography: Darcyn was a veteran to the army, but he never liked Orcs before that. Now he wanders about and slays groups of Orcs with his band of merry Bounty hunters. But due to a unsuccessful raid- which he tells everyone was a horrible slaughter on his part- his band was broken. Lost and annoyed, he is travelling to Bree to gather up more men and make the route down the Misty Mountains to Gondor again, slaughtering for their blood money. Darcyn is happy as a man like him can be with his life and should anyone question him, it's going to be a very long day until they get rid of him. He's come to the town to hope to get more men or get paid for a job.
Age, Gender, Race: 36, Male, Man
Appearance: Darcyn is a tall man, standing at six foot one. His hair is lank and could be any colour under the grim, though it's brown in reality. With a thick, unkempt beard his face appears older than his years and haggard. His brown eyes are filled with hatred and some sort of blood lust. Wearing a mixture of armor from Gondor and Rohan. A chest plate, with matching greaves covers a shirt of chain mail. He wears tough leather leggings and boots, a helm of the Rohirrim style. At his waist, a sword, and on his back, a shield. He aslo has a horn and two daggers with him. When not in armor, he wears a simple shirt and tunic, with breeches- often wore and hard used. His body is fit, if a bit chubby about the middle, and he bares more scars than a sane man should.
Equipment: Armor from Gondor and Rohan which consists of leather leggins, boots, and a chest plate. His helm is of Rohan make. Two daggers on his belt, one in his boot. Under this he has a chain mail shirt, and when not wearing his gear he reverts to a stained shirt and tunic, and worn breeches. He also wields a sword and a shield with the emblem of a blue swan.
Personality: To put things in the simplest of terms would be best for Darcyn, he was never the sharpest nor the best political man. Darcyn is a man of doing, a man who thinks his race superior and himself best of all. The world focuses on him and for anyone else to interfere in his spotlight would be a blemish he could not allow. This often causes fights and ends him up either in trouble or in the middle of a brawl. He also will never, ever admit a elf may be better at sword play than he, or that dwarves are not related to goblins. This idea must have been come by in a drunken stupor. A womanizing, pig-headed man. He sees his way as the only way. Darcyn is crude at the best of times and down right volatile at the worst of times, taking his fury out on those about him. His only loves are gold, himself and arguably fighting. The bloodier, the better.
Story: He wants to go into the mountains and hunt down Orcs, exterminate their horrid race along with the goblins and trolls. He will most likely be found by most as the type of man he is and cause problems and discord. He is not about to help the people about him, but he is a good fighter.
Biography: Darcyn was a veteran to the army, but he never liked Orcs before that. Now he wanders about and slays groups of Orcs with his band of merry Bounty hunters. But due to a unsuccessful raid- which he tells everyone was a horrible slaughter on his part- his band was broken. Lost and annoyed, he is travelling to Bree to gather up more men and make the route down the Misty Mountains to Gondor again, slaughtering for their blood money. Darcyn is happy as a man like him can be with his life and should anyone question him, it's going to be a very long day until they get rid of him. He's come to the town to hope to get more men or get paid for a job.
