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Thread: (M) The Age of Dragon Lords: The Door of Night (M)

  1. #21
    The Replicant
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    Quote Originally Posted by SikstaSlathalin View Post
    lol she did that twice. You wanna join this one Az?
    I tossed around an Uruk idea for a couple of days but 1) I couldn't make it fully crystallise and 2) I didn't want to step on P.K's toes with a second orc. Maybe next time!
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  2. #22
    Dark Lord of the Gif
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    I think that would depend on the idea you were considering. Pk seems to be thinking more roguish type.
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  3. #23
    Your daily overdose of cute
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    heeey make a second orc if its okay with DNA and Siks maybe Lu wont be so lonely.
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  4. #24
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    It's more then ok.
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  5. #25
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    I AM HERE!!!! I WILL TAKE ALL CHARACTERS!!!! Well...um.....let me figure this out a bit but I AM HERE.

  6. #26
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    Spoiler: Cuteness 

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  7. #27
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    Dear GMs, please expect a LOT of lore creating in this corner.....*dusts off my PJ hat and director's chair*

    Spoiler: Beren, son of Beremir, Steward of Gondor - NPC 
    Last edited by Breggo13; 07-21-2020 at 03:43 PM.

  8. #28
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    Name: Niënor Elessar
    Race: Human
    Age: 22

    Gender: Female
    P.o.B: Minas Tirith, Gondor
    Side: Endoran

    Class: Warrior
    Specialization: Warden of the White Tower (Champion equivalent)

    Skills:
    Elven ancestry - Fast reflexes, enhanced hearing/eyesight, longer life
    Rohan Shieldmaiden - Mastery of the sword, combat on the ground and in the saddle.
    Gordor Champion - Leader among her people, respected for her bravery and skills in battle
    Scholar - Educated, loves history and old stories, amazing intuition for tactics and strategy

    Appearance:
    Spoiler: Nienor 


    Weapons: Bastard sword of the best Gondorian steel with the words “Behold the Silver Tree” etched on the blade. Elegant dagger of elvish make, a gift for her 18th birthday that she wears with her dresses and casual outfits.

    Armour: Armour follows more of the traditional Gondor colour scheme - the thick outer tunic is a deep blue with white detailing. A white cloak with silver ensignia of Gondor is worn during battles. When out of the White City, the clothing becomes more muted and lighter, the cloak replaced by elvish green.
    Spoiler: Nienor’s Armour 


    Equipment:
    Whetstone, scabbard that goes across back attached by leather satchel, white horn with the end carved to resemble the head of a dragon (think Smaug), old page ripped out of a book with shaky writing in a fine, flowing hand. She also carries a water skin and athelas tucked away in a pouch.


    Runes: One With Nature rune - Gondren valto. Shaped as a perfect round opal and framed with white gold, this rune is worn by Nienor typically during her duties as a courtier. A simple rune to protect her from the effects of poison. Does not make her immune, simply prolongs the effect to allow for more time to procure an antidote.

    Palantir Fragment - Odd shaped and old, this rune has seen much. It has lost the power of sight and future, simply heightening awareness of the user. Due to its fragmented nature, this is an unreliable rune and can be as finicky as fate itself.

    Personality: Nienor is a bold, brave and ambitious young woman. Raised among Gondor’s elite and spending a few years within the Rohhirim halls has left her well rounded with a passion for history and a respect for the art of steel. Often headstrong, she is not one to shy away from voicing her opinion, often arguing with her uncle when she disagrees. In the past three years, she has proved her worth as a good soldier and a promising tactician, able to think quickly amidst battle. Charming, she has learned the ways of the court at a young age but often refuses to play by the rules, demanding to be treated as an equal in a now much more patriarchal Gondor society. Loyal to Gondor till her last breath, she still sees the world in shades of black and white, quick to judge outsiders and slow to change her mind about them.





    Nienor Elessar was born in approximately 312 FO to Gilraen Elessar, the younger sister to King Elendil II and Lord Leod of Ealdor, a young man from Edoras. Being one of the youngest daughters, Gilraen was allowed to marry for love though the first few years of marriage the young couple remained in Minas Tirith. About a year and a half into the marriage, they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl that inherited her looks from the Elessar branch of her family.

    At the age of four, Leod was forced to return to Edoras and attend court of King Aragorn. Gilraen and Nienor departed to their new life in Rohan with the blessing of Elendil. The young girl grew up in the golden hall, playing with the boys of the nobles and being inspired by the legends of the Lady of Rohan. Determined to always be included in the games, she learned to ride and begged to be taught to use the sword once the boys began their lessons. Leod was initially opposed however, with his duties taking him away from the capital, he had little influence on the child and Gilraen, seeing no harm in the matter, allowed her to learn. Alongside her “rough and tumble” lessons, her mother did insist she learn some of the more traditional skills demanded of Gondorian ladies - embroidery, dancing and the history of the mighty Southern kingdom.

    When Nienor was turning about to turn seven, tragedy struck her family - Lord Leod was killed in a scrimmage with a clan of Uruk Hai as they were raiding the outer villages. Although a valiant death, it put a dark shadow over Gilraen’s life in Edoras - the temptation of being connected to the ruling family of Gondor was rather great for many Rohirin lords and, after being constantly pursued by proposals of marriage even before her mourning was done, Gilraen packed her household and departed back to the White City. There, Nienor and her mother were greeted with open arms by the king who was pleased to have his little sister and niece back. Having lost her father at a young age and not being particularly close with him, Nienor had started to look at Elendil as a father and the king, having no children of his own, took a particular liking to the brave, bold child, often spoiling her with gifts and attention.

    Growing up in Minas Tirith was tough - having been so long surrounded by a much more simpler society, it was hard for Nienor to adapt to the more sophisticated and often misleading court life that surrounded her in the citadel. The young girl’s escape became long rides across the Pelennor Fields and continuing to train in the arts of the sword. Over time, she befriended the Steward’s son Beren who became her constant companion and brother at arms. Attending her uncle’s court, Nienor was able to observe the way the king handled all the misfortunes of his people with grace and compassion and witnessed the love and respect his people had in return. Not having a true understanding of Gondor aside from history lessons prior, this influenced the girl to associate the White City and the country with valor, honour and strength - something she was always proud of and tried to replicate in her own behavior.

    Around 10 years of age, Gilraen started to be in contact with King Aragorn, writing letters back and forth. At first, Nienor didn’t give much thought to this exchange but eventually, she confronted her mother, wondering what was the meaning behind it. As it turned out, Gilraen was asking for the King of Edoras to take her daughter as a ward for a few years - why, she refused to tell Nienor. As a parting gift, Gilraen handed Nienor the Gondren valto, dabbing away tears as the girl left rather angry. This was the last time she would see her mother - shortly after, Gilraen was found poisoned by an unknown substance. Upon hearing the news, Nienor felt numb. The rune stone became her most treasured possession along with the poem her mother used to sing to her as a lullaby.

    Nienor remained in Edoras until she turned fourteen as King Aragorn’s ward, continuing her education as a shieldmaiden but, now being able to objectively compare the two cultures, she found herself constantly longing to return to Mount Mindolluin. After pleading with her uncle and the king of Rohan, she was on her way home and into the Gondorian custody, breathing a sign of relief as she crossed the Mering Stream. Rejoining the court once more, the young lady appeared to be much more comfortable in her role as her uncle’s adopted child and the responsibilities that came with the position. Nonetheless, she continued training with the Gondorian elite warriors, hiding her bruises and scratches under long sleeves and tinted powder.

    As she approached nineteen, Gondor got the first word of new horrors rising in the east. Far off, circling the remains of Mount Doom in the red light of the setting sun was a huge winged shape, a dragon much like the stories. For months, Minas Tirith observed the new threat day and night but the creature remained far off. Hesitantly, life went on for the Gondorians though the dread of another life-long war was looming on the horizon. Casualties were becoming more and more common - orcs were starting to appear in the lands of the Reunited Kingdoms where they were not seen for centuries and clashes among the two factions became more often. Eventually, marching under the white banner of truce, orcs entered the White City bearing news for the king -a new threat rose in the East. A threat unlike anything ever seen before. The Thu-Gurz, the Wrong.

    The past three years became a blur - the beauty of the Gondorian court melted away, giving room to war councils and hospices, the great halls providing refuge to those suffering and dying of the wrong. Panic started to rise as the Pelennor Fields once again filled up with bodies but this time, there was no retreat, no cease fire, no time to bury the dead and barely any survivors. The White City and all its fortresses, once again restored to their Third Age glory watched, helpless, as those still breathing were dragged away to the East. As much as Elendil hated the idea of losing his niece, men were scarce and anyone trained with a sword was called to stand watch on the walls. With his blessing, the young woman was sent with a small group of warriors to Dol Amroth to prepare it as a last defence and an escape route to the seas should the White City fall.





    “Hold your line!” Nienor’s voice flew high and loud, managing to echo above the clanging of swords and the screams of men and beasts. Black hair plastered to her sweaty forehead, the young woman blocked as a huge monster swung an odd shaped blade at her. The mere idea of the weapon being odd made her grimace for a second - the rough shape and razor sharp edges had become some of the most common spoils of war, were one lucky enough to survive the encounter with their wielders. So far, the young woman’s luck was still holding.

    “Nienor!” She didn’t respond to the yell, disengaging the blade and, in a burst of speed, slicing up. The foul stench was a clear indication she had hit the intestines and the stomach, the contents of the creature spilling out on the ground as her sword finished its arc, shining in defiance as blood dripped from it. Not taking a moment to breath, sensing the approach of something snarling to her left, she spun, ready to use the momentum to make her strike more powerful but the creature gasped and slid forward, it’s bald and decaying head almost touching the girl’s boots, a black arrow sticking out of his skull. “That last one almost caught you.”

    “Is that the last of them?” Nienor lowered the sword, her heart pounding as she looked around. Her blue eyes took in the dead monsters sprawled in various mauled forms across the small field, various body parts lying separate from their owners, her men using rags to wipe away blood off their armour. Sticking her blade into the ground and stepping over the dead monster, the young woman walked towards a grinning blonde man, casually loosening his bowstring.

    “Every last bastard,” he confirmed cheerfully before putting his bow back into a now empty quiver. “They are getting bolder.”

    “And we are getting reckless,” Nienor snapped, watching as one of the men pulled away the cloth of his tattered glove, sweat forming in his forehead as he revealed a shallow scratch. “Beren, this isn’t a game.”

    “If you aren’t enjoying every moment you are walking this earth, what’s the point?” The blonde shrugged before walking over to observe his last kill. Shaking her head, the girl approached the frightened warrior, pulling off her gloves and grabbing his hand. As he winced, she shot him a glare.

    “Hold still so I can see how bad this is,” her eyes took in the wound, trying not to hope and yet...The scratch wasn’t a deep one, not even drawing blood but she had seen men die from less. “It’s nothing to worry about Andor,” she lied, pushing the hand away and gripping the man’s shoulder. It took all of her courage and resolve not to break down seeing the look he gave her, a look of a man already knowing he was going to die. Looking around, she nodded seeing as none of the others seemed to be worse for wear. Grabbing the hilt of her sword, she lowered down onto a knee, closing her eyes for a second. Another close call, monsters ambushing them in broad daylight. Her forehead touched her list, angry tears threatening to burst. Another man she could not save and another death she couldn’t prevent. Ancestors help her...
    Last edited by Breggo13; 07-23-2020 at 01:04 AM.

  9. #29
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    Az: Still feel free to join us.

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  10. #30
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    If the image no work, so be it

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