Koti: Good char all and all, but after some talking DNA have some things. We're ok with you playing an ambitious young man sneaking onto the mission, but the best and most logical idea we figured out was he replaces one of the Orlisian Warden Mages already going, because the Commander has been doing his damnedest to keep this whole thing very small. The dock workers where Wardens not going on the mission and Initiates and the Wardens, Dwarves, and Elves were largely replacing normal crew onboard the ships so someone who isn't from one of the three groups would be noticed really quick.
He could also be an actual too young Warden Mage who sneaked onto the mission. But that's the only issue we really see.
New NPCs
Spoiler: Tinnu Silvereye of Mirkwood
Name: Tinnu Silvereye
Race: Silvin Elf
Age: 38
Gender(M or F): Female
P.o.B: Mirkwood
Side: Defender of Endor
Class: Rogue
Specialization: Assassin
Skills(limit of 4)
Black Blade: The Endoran version of an Assassin. But her skills are based around hunting corrupted spiders and followers of the Dark One.
Archer: A skill as inborn into her being as breathing or her keen senses. Like all Silvan Elves she's a highly skilled archer able to fire multiple arrows and a number of other tricks.
Tracker: Tied in with her other skills, Tinnu can track over many miles using her Elven eyes and ears.
Empathy: A natural skill learned from living in a dying forest and rescuing people from Cultists. Tinnu is a naturally kind and understanding person.
Spells(Mage only, limit of 3): N/A
Appearance(pic or description)
Spoiler: Tinnu
Tinnu is a supple 6'3 and her eyes have a silver glint to them in the moonlight. When she is hunting she wears black and gray mottled armor and muffles on her soft leather boots.
Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description)
A simple wooden bow
A pair of daggers
Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): Generally the armor in the image, but when on mission it's replaced with soft cloth and leather in mottled black and gray colors.
Equipment(pic or description): Waterskin, fire making tools, spare clothes, arrows making tools, and a small stock of Lembas bread.
Runes: Both her daggers are runed to never shine when light strikes them.
Personality: Personality: Fair and unusually gentle for an assassin Tinnu lives the life of a Black Blade most famously taught in the area of Mirkwood where shadows rule in place of the sun and hiding places are endless. Unlike most Mirkwood Elves she can more easily trust outsiders, her job has taken her all over Endor and taught her that friends and allies can come from anywhere.
Background: Born among the last of the Mirkwood Elves left in Endor, Tinnu was surrounded by the the lore of Endor and the ways of the Black Blade. In a place where Giant Spiders outnumber Elves you learn at a very young age to fight and survive. Tinnu made her first kill at age five when she was caught foraging by a fat greedy spider and had to kill it by knocking an old rotten tree on top of it. Nearly dying gave her such a thrill that she spent years training to be an assassin while the usual work of taking out upstarts and political rivals came along once in awhile most her life was spent hunting down the remnants of the Dark One's armies and followers that weren't wiped out after the War of the Ring
While never going far to the North to face down the rumored Sauron Cults she found some hunting grounds in the foot hills of the Misty Mountains. Nothing to brag about but enough to allow her to hone her skill with the sword and bow. Eventually though even the crags and caves of the mountains were empty of the villains, time passed and Tinnu was beginning to fear she would get soft and fat on the rich food of her people and lack of activity. Thankfully though, fate wasn't done with her yet, fore it brought the legendary warrior Glorfindel to the Wood accompanied by a hard eyed young man wielding an ancient blade. They were looking for two of the Silvan Folk to help them eradicate Cults of Sauron in the region of Angmar. Without hesitation she joined up and soon found herself in the snowy north killing Cultists and slowly purging her home of this scum. After fighting through their temple Tinnu herself had managed to kill one of the four leaders but the other three fled through the Iron Hills in the chaos created by the reinforcements storming in after the small company. The group was separated for three days and Tinnu's friend Ivanas was killed. Glorfindel and Tinnu found each other, but it wasn't until the fourth day that Alestyr returned with the heads of the other cult leaders and his body covered in black blood. His usually tied back hair was flaring out around his head when he crested the hill the sun blazing up behind him. It was his appearance and ferocity of the days before that inspired her to give him the title of Mornrau or Black Lion. That was the last day she saw him though, he was among the first to see the Wrong emerging from the underground and led the first strike against them, but once he and his small band of Rangers vanished into the caves they never emerged.
Her friends' death was mourned but it wasn't long before Tinnu found herself out in the wilds again, this time hunting bandits and other such criminals which always find a way to make a quick few coins from the blood of the innocent. She was making a satisfactory living doing it too right up until four years ago when the first of "The Wrong" reared their ugly heads. Bringing destruction and horror with them that dwarfed that which the Hordes of Mordor wrought many years before. Four years later Tinnu is much older and far more deadly with her skills but even she has found herself on the bad end of a fight more times then she would care to admit. Every scrap of knowledge they learn of this things comes with death, but they must keep learning otherwise they would never live to see the next year.
Spoiler: Other
A bitter winter wind howled around the peaks of Angmar. It's been three days since she tracked a small group of Cultists who have been stealing children from the fields of a nearby village. She could only shudder at what these cultists from a defunct god could be doing with kids.
It didn't matter to her, they just needed to die. The group was rumored to be very small, maybe six individuals, Easterlings far from home and all. As such she had elected to go alone knowing she could move quicker on her own and minimize the chance of someone else being hurt. Still she had some of the local men standing by to receive the kid after she rescued them. Her tracking skills were hardly needed as the Cultists didn't even bother to cover their tracks. She could see three sets of small bare footprints half stumbling half being dragged towards an ominous black stone tower built into the side of a mountain. It almost looked new, but Angmar has been abandoned since the Witch-King was slain two centuries ago. Aside from a few foolish bandits no one wished to face the unpredictable weather or harsh terrain of this frozen wasteland.
But for Cultists of the Dark One it was the perfect place. She assumed this assurance of being left alone is what led their boldness. Tinnu and her small number of Kin were the only "assassins" operating out in the open in the lands of Endor. Other more cloak and dagger groups existed especially with the lack of open conflict since the War of the Ring. Idle hands lead to self-destruction in her experience. With no uniting enemy to keep the Free People from each other's throats and the Elves' moral guidance leaving these shores, the Men and Dwarves would fall into themselves and lash out as they wished. She tried not to think much on the future or what Endor would look like once the last of her people left these shores.
Shaking her head she pulled her hood up and quickened her pace towards the stone tower. With not even an indent in the snow to mark her approach Tinnu slipped inside the main level the door was closed, but unlocked. The inside of the tower felt colder than outside, like every window in the place was open. Taking a low breath she pulled her daggers free and lurked along the shadows her senses alert and her steps sure. A gut feeling told her to look towards the basement of the tower.
Finding the door easily enough, she heard what sounded like deep voiced chanting and the faintest cry of children. Anger flared within her heart and she moved as quickly and as quietly as she could the sounds of chants and crying grew louder with each flight of stairs she descended. It also grew warmer the deeper she went, soon she began seeing a bright orange light dancing across the dark stone walls. Slowing her pace she could hear the crackling of a large fire and it truly must've been a large fire because the She-Elf could feel the heat from the base of the stairs a few rooms away from the main chamber where the fire was burning wildly. The chants and the crying of children were louder and far more clear than they had been before. Sticking to the shadows Tinnu reached the main chamber, the heat of the fire making her sweat and covered her body in a burning sensation. The inner sanctum was actually two levels, she was on the bottom floor with the Cultists and children on the second. where the base of the massive bonfire was. Smoke aided her in remaining hidden as she moved slowly around the bottom floor trying to catch a glimpse of her targets.
The Cultists were gathered around the upper level, they were on their knees chanting loudly. The one she assumed to be the leader was standing before an alter of some kind with the splintered remains of the Dark One's mace at it's center. It had been partially repaired and her keen eyes could see fresh blood dripping off the flanges. Her heart sunk some, but she could also still hear children crying so it wasn't too late. The only question that remained was if she would kill the cultists first and run the risk of one of them getting past her to kill the kids or save the kids and run the risk of the cultists escaping or getting the drop on her. Staying crouched in the shadows the woman began moving her eyes about seeing a number of plans in her imagination hoping to pick the right one. Time was of the essence though so she decided to try and do both options. The Cultists were all kneeling so as she drove a dagger into their kidneys their bodies only slumped a little, but stayed in the kneeling position. Her luck held out as she killed five of the six cultists. All that was left was the leader who was still lost in the fervor of his chanting.
She could clearly see the small cage the children were being kept in. They were dirty, shivering, and naked six had been taken and thankfully six were still there, the blood must've been from something or someone else. It didn't matter right now, her mission was close to the happiest ending she could've possibly hoped for. Staying low and out of the man's line of sight she held a dagger close to her chest waving her hand gently as the children saw her approach and began crying a little louder moving their mouths in silent pleas for help. Tinnu was a few feet away from the leader when his chanting suddenly stopped. He quickly turned bringing a large curved blade out from under his cloak, but before he could go on the attack Tinnu threw her dagger, embedding it hilt deep in the cloaked Easterling's chest. The man let out a gurgled gasp before he dropped like a bag of rocks onto the ground.
Relief flooded the faces of the children and Tinnu retrieved her dagger and wiped the man's blood off before sheathing it. She freed the children then went around yanking the outer cloaks off the dead cultists and wrapped each child in one before she pushed all their bodies into the still raging bonfire below. The last thing she did before they left was toss the alter and everything in it into the fire as well. With any luck this tower would burn down and never be used for such heinous acts again. Tinnu and the children left the tower soon there after and moving with as much haste as they could reached the village and the awaiting men. Tinnu was hailed as a heroine, but aside from taking some offered she refused the reward and was gone before dawn.
Spoiler: Damina Buck of Wilderland
Name: Damina Buck of Wilderland
Race: Human
Age: 28
Gender(M or F): Female
P.o.B: Wilderland, Endor
Side: Defenders of Endor
Class: Warrior
Specialization: Berserker
Skills(limit of 4)
Brute Being both of a stout family and a Berserker means Damina is much stronger, more durable, and has greater endurance than she looks.
Axe maiden: While some girls learn to ride or wield swords Damina was chopping logs and splitting the heads of wild dogs before she was out of her pigtails. This lifetime of hard labor translates well to being a warrior.
Bloodrage: What her clan calls the warrior rage she and many other girls in heir village are trained in. Controlling and repressing emotions only to unleash it in a nigh unstoppable rage that seems to double her strength, speed, and endurance.
Woodcraft: Like the Rohan with their horses the remnants of the Northman Race are deeply trained and skilled in navigating and surviving in the forests and mountains.
Spells(Mage only, limit of 3): N/A
Appearance(pic or description):Spoiler: Damina
Damina, like all of Northman blood is a very stout and muscular person. 5'6, but weighs a mighty 150lbs of logger muscle. Her hair is dull blond and kept short aside from the braid on the left side of her head.
She usually dresses as above a sturdy combination of steel and fur armor meant to protect her from the cold as well as blades. While her tribal tattoos are red and hide some of her natural beauty she is a pretty woman if a bit wild in her appearance. Her eyes are a steady blue and her skin somewhat grey, but healthy and vibrant. And it is only blemished by a few scar and imperfections from being a tree-feller most of her life.
Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description): She carries the ax seen in the picture as her main weapon. But she also has a sharpened wedge she wears like an arm-blade.
Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): The suit of steel and fur above, good in both defense and mobility.
Equipment(pic or description): She carries a large haversack in which she carries food, firemaking tools, axe sharpening stones, a warm cloak, a few bladders of water, and a few coils of strong rope.
Runes: (Limit of 2 all and all). None
Personality: Damina has much more in common with the Dwarves than she does the more refined men and women of Gondor and Rohan. She's rough, tough, ready to fight, and foolish or proud enough to rush head first into battle. Though when there is no more skulls to crack, her emotional repression tends to make her moody and antsy.
Spoiler: Background
Two centuries ago, when the Mirkwood had fallen the Northmen had no home. They fled to Gondor and fought alongside King Aragon and his Fellowship of nations against the Enemy. And when they won the Men of the Wilderlands had expected to finally have a safe home. But it was just the beginning, the woods were tainted and it would take the better part of one hundred years to purify it with help from the remaining Elves and other men.
And at the forefront of these efforts was the clan of woodcutters known as the Bucks an old family with deep knowledge of the forests of the Wilderlands. As the forests and glens became pure again the Bucks became heroes and leaders. And while they were good fighters on their own it was their signature family style of war that set them apart. Berserking was that style and it rivaled even the ferocity of the few Uruk-Hai left after the Dark Lord fell. It cemented them in the hierarchy of the lands and it was a proud tradition they carried on down to the present day.
Right to the dirty little body of a girl named Damina. She was an only child which was an oddity in her family. But one more child in the camp was always welcome. And this one embodied everything her family was famous for. Tough, strong, and able to stare down a wolf without crying. Like her cousins she was trained to do two things. Tend to the forests and protect the Wilderland, even as a child she had seen death. And as she grew towards womanhood she grew in power and learned the way of the Berserker. She excelled at it, but it was this very same discipline that nearly ended her life and the lives of her entire clan. When the Wrong arrived four years ago her people were among the first to square off and draw first blood. Sadly the blood of the Wrong won over the might of the Bucks. Those whom didn't die in violet convulsions were driven mad by some evil voice calling to them at all hours. Damina's best friend Gilaee was the first one she was tasked with giving the mercy of death to.
Gilaee was the first, but she wouldn't be the last. In the following weeks more of her friends and family died either at the hands of the Wrong and it's blood or by the hands of their clansmen. Now at the end of these four long years the Northmen have once again fled to Gondor and Rohan and Damina is the last of the Bucks and last of it's proud line of Berserk warriors. She fights day in and day out, but hasn't used her family's combat style in two years.
Spoiler: Other:Dawn broke through the canopy and shined down upon the rumpled pile of animal skins lying next to the black and white ashes of a burned up campfire. The raspy caw of a crow annoyed whoever was under the furs enough to reach a swarthy hand out from under it's warm shelter, pick up a rock, and hurl it into the trees a surprised squawk was heard and then the forest returned to relative peace and quiet.
But a weak growl emerged from the furs followed by a young woman wearing a fur jacket and leather pants. She looked groggy and disheveled, and her single braid was hung up on her ear, but with a big yawn she threw the furs from her legs and slowly stretched her cold stiffened limbs. This was Damina's third day solid of scout duty, but it was more camping than scouting. She was in the western reaches of Gondor closer to the sea, most of the fighting was in the East, closer to Mordor.
It bored her to no end, but she was one of the few Northmen left in Gondor's standing army. And her commander a large man named Tallet knew of her family and was like an uncle to her so he wanted to keep her safe, she being the last of her clan. Damina understood, but that didn't mean she had to like it. The cool morning helped wake the young woman up, but it was the sound of twigs breaking and leaves rustling that fully woke her up. She quickly picked up her axe and spun around to face the source of the sound. A Warg was breaking through the brush it's shoulders hunched and it's teeth bared. After the War of the Ring, Wargs, like Orcs and Goblins were hunted down and forced back beyond the borders. Though since The Wrong had arrived, some have found a way back into the rest of Endor.
This one was skinny and it looked kind of old, but that only made it more dangerous. It snarled at the girl, but she only gripped her axe tighter growling right back. Fear was unknown to her, she'd met only a few Wargs in her time. But she'd never fought with one on her own, they couldn't be that different from killing wolves could they? She tensed her muscles and began circling her small camp the Warg, still snarling followed it's growls becoming louder and louder. Damina wished she had time to get into her armor, her leather coat and pants were tough, but they wouldn't hold up to the Warg's teeth and claws. She'd need to strike first and strike hard, she feinted a charge forward, but it was a ruse to make the Warg attack first. And it worked, the beast let out a loud howl and began running across the small clearing. Damina quickly jumped to the side and swung her axe low, she clipped it's front leg making the beast tumble into it's run. This was a tactic she had used many times before when facing wolves or bears, trip them up then bring the axe down to cleave it's head from it shoulders. The Warg was quicker though, it rolled over it's large shoulders and just missed the axe. The head embedded in the dirt and before Damina could get it free the creature charged. But the girl was ready she sprung over the handle of her axe dodging the Warg.
She landed in a tight roll picking up a rock and hurled it at the Warg's head. The rock was hefty and cracked soundly against the animal's head. The stone dazed it long enough for her to free her axe and crash it heavily down upon the beast's skull. She heard the Warg's skull crack and felt blood splatter across her front. She panted and pulled the axe free of the lifeless Warg's head. Warg wasn't good meat so she simply rolled the beast into a ditch away from her camp and return to her fire crouching down and bringing it back to life.
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