[Characters] The Adventurers

[Silent Rain]

Now that you all have access to the 'player's guide' thread (or the actual player's guide, if you have it), you will need to use that resource when fleshing out your characters. Feel free to change any aspect of the character you applied with.

For character creation, you will need to select the following:

1. A Culture (Race)
2. A Background
3. A class
4. Virtues (Feats) (If applicable)
5. Purchase equipment

Here is some more misc information:

• Everyone starts with max HP at 1st level
• Ability points - We are using 27-point buy
• Stat Blocks - Everyone will need one. If you are not familiar with how to make one or what it should contain, I have a link in the houserules thread that contains some good information. Of note for this campaign specifically, please make sure the following is tracked in your stat blocks
  • Number of temporary and permanent shadow points
  • Whether you have inspiration or not
  • The number of remaining hit dice

Let me know once your character sheet is ready for review.

Questions asked and answered

Starting Equipment & Wealth
In regard to starting wealth, watch for the sections in the culture and background. If you need to roll for starting wealth, I added the dice thread. Also, take note of your character's prosperity (determined by the culture they come from), as this might affect what equipment, etc. you gain from your class. Unwanted starting equipment can be sold back for its full cost, to then purchase alternate equipment.

Proficiencies
If you gain a proficiency twice (i.e. Background and culture), you main choose a different proficiency.

Ability Scores
If your culture grants one ability score bonus and then additional bonuses to "other" abilities, they cannot be the same as the first named ability. 15 (unmodified) is the highest starting ability score.

Concerning backgrounds and inspiration:

In each background, you will see a listing under hope and despair. These are similar to the traits, flaws, ideals, etc. from standard 5e. In AiME, they have a much more significant impact on your character and how you play them. Each character will need to select a hope trait and a despair trait (You can select these traits from other backgrounds if they are a better fit for your character).

If a character takes an action that specifically aligns with either of these traits, they gain inspiration. This is important to keep in mind, not only because inspiration is always useful, but because some virtues require inspiration to be used.

Sheet Status

Player	Character	Status
Helvorix	Braegar	Good
Totentanzen	Grimfara	Good
telcontar	Solveig	Good
Touketsu	Vormund	Good
Elanir	Nolmendil	Good
Avner	Vidar	Good

[Helvorix]

Character Name: Braegar The Road Watcher Description: Braegar stood an inch above six feet in height, he had long legs and moved with an uncommon agility. He was fair of complexion, had shoulder-length chestnut hair, a short wispy beard and deep blue eyes that reminded people of the sea. He often wore a self-assured, almost insolent grin and was always ready to share a song or tale with a stranger upon the road. Though on the occasion where he was stricken by some sorrow, he preferred to go off alone to sit under the shade of a tree and take up his carving knife and a block of wood. Culture: Woodmen of Wilderland Class: Warden History: Braegar is a Warden of Woodland Hall and he and his fellows are tasked with making sure the lands around the settlements are safe; though he spends most of his efforts guarding the Old Forest Road. His father, Raegorn, was the chieftain of his clan and had been a renowned adventurer in his youth. Braegar was taught woodcraft by his father and grew up in his shadow; in awe of his strength and the respect he commanded of others. His mother, Aethelwe, had died of some sickness that came on an ill wind from the south when he was a boy of ten winters, but he still remembers her well despite his youth. For it was she that imparted to him her love of music and song, and taught him to play the flute and harp. Many others died as well, and it was not the first time the woodmen had suffered the Necromancer's evil breath, but Braegar had only ever heard stories of such thing before and never thought he would see such an evil visited upon his own house. The day she perished, upon the threshold of her burial mound, Braegar turned to the south and cursed the Necromancer, calling him craven. He lamented that he was not one of the mighty men of the edain like Hurin or Beren, or a great Elf Lord who had the power to ascend the towers of Dol Guldur, and cast his defiance into the Necromancer's teeth. "I may not have the strength to strike at you, but I can strike at your servents!" he cried aloud, so that all who gathered could hear him, "Not even your crows will fly without fear of my arrows, and when I am grown I will gather to me all who hate you as I do, and we will wipe your filth from this land! This I swear. My people will not remain scattered and broken upon your will!" And all the mourners among the barrows stood in silence and were afraid. And that silence and fear crept into Braegar's heart and he felt like a fool. He hoped bitterly that the Necromancer did not visit more evil upon the woodmen in revenge for a grieving boy's witless oath. The day before Braegar's seventeenth birthday six years ago, the Battle of Five Armies raged and the Necromancer's stranglehold upon Mirkwood was broken. He and his father, along with many others, cut down the fleeing goblins in droves as they tried to escape through the wood into the Misty Mountains. The routed enemy's lines broke and they scattered about the trees and the woodmen used hounds to track their movement, picking off small groups by ambush. When he later learned about the Necromancer's flight, he dared to hope that perhaps he would be freed of his hasty oath. But that hope died quickly, and he knew in his heart that the shadow of Dol Guldur, though diminished, was not gone and the woodmen remained scattered and broken. Braegar has taken to training a young grey wolfhound, that he has named Shadowmaw for the black around his muzzle. To this end, he has taken the hound far afield into the eastern eaves of Mirkwood to hunt game and whatever dangers they may find there. After much trial for them both, as they learned to rely upon and fight for one another, Braegar now aims to reach Lake-Town to reprovision and perhaps rest in a real bed by a warm fire for a night, before returning home. Roleplay Sample: In gloomy Mirkwood, upon the Old Forest Road, two men could be seen walking side by side. One held the lead of a dapple grey mare laden with pelts from a long hunt. The man walked with bent back and slumped shoulders, as if he carried a great burden. His skin was a ruddy brown and he was grim of countenance and heavy of brow, which shadowed eyes the color of robin's eggs. The care lines in his face had been worn into great crags, weathered by time until it seemed as though he himself had been carved out of the wood. A tangle of wiry silver-white mane hung down past his shoulders and his thick, uneven beard bristled in the chill wind. The man who strode beside him looked much like a younger version of himself, though quite different in mood and bearing. He was tall and exuberant, full of the vitality of youth. He had fair skin, long chestnut-colored hair, and a wispy beard, cut short. A wry smile played across his face at some inner thought. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them and were the color of the sea. Both men wore the simple cloth garb and cloak typical of the Woodman of Wilderland. Earthy tones of grey, green, and burgundy; worn and faded as if passed down through generations. The young man was merrily humming a tune to himself that he'd picked up in Lake-Town. As he walked, he worked his wood-knife upon a carved yew flute, occasionally stopping to focus on some detail before hastening to catch up with the older man. The instrument bore rough-hewn designs of gnarled trees, beasts and birds common to that part of the world, and he seemed to be carving some new scene upon it. Though crude, the carvings were still beautiful in their simplicity. The man's humming broke into song as it reached a crescendo. O' the Butcher's Boy was quite the thief, The Master watched in disbelief, as he stole the very thing he held most dear. And on the eve, that very day, the Master's wife did run away..." He turned to the older man, grinning, as if expecting him to join in the song, but the grim-faced man remained silent, eyes upon the road ahead. He frowned slightly, his cheery mood dampened. "Father, why so dour?" He asked, "You should be pleased, they are likely to throw us a feast upon our return to Wuduseld." He blew the wood shavings off his flute, revealing the newly carved depiction of three fierce-looking wolves. "Never have I heard of wolves to grow so large and so fell as the ones we slew. Journeyers need not turn from this road for fear of them and the folk who were taken by them are avenged." The old man retrieved a pipe from a pouch on his belt and stopped a moment to light it. The wolves had been haunting the road for many days, terrorizing travelers and slaying some. One ill-fated night, they snatched a child from the arms of his mother upon the threshold of their home. The elder woodman was world-weary and knew well the beasts of the land both goodly and fell. The boldness of these wolves, killing without care for the ire of men, seemed to him unnatural and he feared that the beast's evil had been spurred on by some malevolent will. "Braegar," he said, for that was the young man's name, "I know you speak truly, these lands have not known so much prosperity in all my years. The dragon of the Lonely Mountain is slain and they say the shadow in Dol Guldur has been driven forth from Mirkwood, the goblins of the Misty Mountains have been dealt a grievous hurt and fled to cower in the deep places of the earth. Yet, I cannot shake this feeling of foreboding. Can you not feel it? "I think the shadows are long enough without such dark thoughts," said Braegar, trying a smile again, though he felt himself needing to suppress a shiver. "You know what Mother used to say about borrowing trouble."

Stats and Actions   Action: Reaction: Bonus: Move: Effects: Concentration:   Braegar's Character Sheet.pdf | Braegar The Road Watcher | Woodmen | Warden | Level 1 | HP: 8/8 (Temporary 0)| AC: 14 | HD: 1d8 | Speed: 30 | Shadow Weakness: Lure of Power Shadow Points: Temporary 0, Permanent 0, Inspiration: No Ability Score: Str:10(0) Dex:16(+3) Con:10(0) Int:12(+1) Wis:14(+2) Cha:14(+2) Weapons: Melee: Shortsword, +5 attack, 1d6+3 damage | Dagger, +5 attack, 1d4+3 damgage Range: Short bow, +5 attack, 1d6+3 damage, 20/20 arrows Skills: Acrobatics:+3 Animal Handling:+4 Athletics:0 Deception:+2 History:+1 Insight:+2 Intimidation:+4 Investigation:+1 Medicine:+2 Nature:+1 Perception:+2 Performance:+4 Persuasion:+2 Sleight of Hand:+3 Stealth:+3 Survival:+4 Riddle:+1 Lore:+1 Shadow-Lore:+3 Traditions:+3 Features: You can inspire others through stirring words, through music or by your presence alone. To do so, use a bonus action on your turn. Choose one creature other than yourself that is within 60 feet of you and who can hear you. That creature gains one Gift die, a d6. Once within the next 10 minutes, the creature can roll the Gift die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll or saving throw it attempts. The creature can wait until after it rolls the d20 before deciding to use the Gift die, but must decide before the Loremaster says whether the roll succeeds or fails. Once the Gift die is rolled, it is lost. A creature may have only one Gift die at a time. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier (a minimum of once). You regain any expended uses after a long rest. Your Gift die increases in size when you reach certain levels in this class. The die becomes a d8 at 5th level, a d10 at 10th level and a d12 at 15th level.Warden’s Gift. Wardens make a point of keeping up with the latest news both local and from afar, as well as making an effort to know the wise and the powerful. If you can freely travel about an area talking with locals and passing travellers for a few hours, you can make a DC 12 Intelligence (Investigation) ability check with advantage. Success indicates that you hear all the latest useful rumours, including news of trouble. Failure means you hear all the latest rumours and news, but cannot discern the true from the false. On a success, you can also glean the names, whereabouts and general appearances of all local influential individuals, households and factions, as well as what livery, colours and heraldry they typically bear, if any.Ever Watchful. Your folk have always delighted in training great, longjawed hounds, stronger than wolves. You have chosen a wolfhound of Wilderland to accompany you in your wanderings and the faithfulness of your hound reinforces your spirit. Raise your maximum Wisdom score by 1 point. Add your proficiency bonus to the Hound’s AC, attack rolls, damage rolls, saving throws and skills. Its hit points are equal to four times your level. The Hound heals using your Hit Dice. The Hound obeys your commands and stays by your side. On your turn, you may use your action to command the Hound to take an Attack, Dash, Dodge, Disengage or Help action. If you have the Extra Attack feature, you can make one weapon attack yourself while commanding your hound to Attack. The training of a Hound of Mirkwood is an endeavour in itself; the teachings of Radagast have turned this craft into an art. When you first choose this virtue, your Hound learns to assist you with one skill as described under Support below. You can train him to Support additional skills, as well as to Fight in combat, as a separate undertaking during later Fellowship phases, as follows: Support You can train your Hound to assist you in one activity. A dog can be trained to support you when making any one of the following ability checks: Charisma (Intimidation), Intelligence (Investigation) or Wisdom (Perception). It takes a Fellowship phase worth of training to teach your dog to complete an additional task. When you make ability checks using one of your Hound’s trained skills, you gain advantage, and count as proficient in the skill even if you are not – if you are proficient, you get to double your proficiency bonus. Fight As a Fellowship phase undertaking, you may train your Hound to Attack, Dash, Disengage, Dodge or Help without requiring a command from you. Each action takes a separate Fellowship phase to train your Hound.Hound of Mirkwood. (My hound is trained in investigation.) Background: Oathsworn. You have sworn a mighty oath, one that is now indelibly associated with your name. The oath itself should be both suitably epic and possible to accomplish; “I want to kill the merchant who cheated me” fails the first test, while “I want to rid the world of Shadow” fails the second. Vowing to destroy a Dragon plaguing the land is suitably epic, as is overthrowing an evil kingdom. A mighty oath carries its own legend and you often find yourself receiving aid from those who want to help the legend or even become embroiled in it. When you enter Lake-town, for example, you may find a merchant or two willing to donate a priceless weapon to your cause or reprovision you, while an eager young would-be adventurer may ask to join you on your quest. The downside is that the subject of any such oath obviously wants to do away with you and if you enter a town or countryside that is beholden to the subject you may quickly find yourself in very difficult circumstances! Fate also frowns on oath-breakers. If you ever abandon or break your oath, then fate conspires against you. Your reputation suffers and you become a magnet of ill-fortune. Such troubles tend to be minor at first, coaxing you back towards fulfilling your oath, but eventually the weight of them becomes so much that it destroys you in spirit if not of body as well (death is often too merciful for an oathbreaker).Mighty Oath Distinctive Quality. Whether you were born of noble blood your deeds and actions are those of a person worthy of swearing such an oath.Lordly Speciality. Sometimes you don’t have the convenience of your arms and armour. When that happens nature provides if you have the skills to shape it.Woodwright. My oath is a worthy one; it inspires others to join me.Hope. One day I am sure that my fealty towards my oath will bring great pain to others.Despair. Saves: Str:0 Dex:+5 Con:0 Int:+1 Wis:+2 Cha:+4 Equipment: A traveling cloak, a belt dagger, Spring and Summer Travelling Gear includes appropriate garb, backpack, blanket, mess kit, a flask of oil, a pouch, 50’ hempen rope, 5 torches, a waterskin and a whetstone. With rations, this gear weighs 49 lb. and if purchased, would cost around 9s.traveling gear for the spring/summer, Hunting Trap. When you use your action to set it, this trap forms a saw-toothed steel ring that snaps shut when a creature steps on a pressure plate in the center. The trap is affixed by a heavy chain to an immobile object, such as a tree ar a spike driven into the ground. A creature that steps on the plate must succeed on a DC 13 Dexterity saving throw or take 1d4 piercing damage and stop moving. Thereafter, until the creature breaks free of the trap, its movement is limited by the length of the chain (typically 3 feet long). A creature can use its action to make a DC 13 strength check, freeing itself ar another creature within its reach on a success. Each failed check deals 1 piercing damage to the trapped creature.a hunting trap, a black yew flute, woodcarver's tools, a shortsword, a leather jerkin, a short bow and a quiver of arrows Coin:| G: 0 | S: 1 | C: 0 |

[Telcontar]

Solveig Solveig Barding Wanderer Description Solveig is tall (5'11") and rangy, with the fair skin so common to all the Men of the North. Her long, sandy hair is tied back into a single, unkempt braid. Her hazel eyes are ever-alert and ever-watchful. Although possessed of facial features that might be considered comely, she takes little interest in her appearance. Her clothing is bulky and unflattering and travel-stained, and she rarely washes more than once a week. She tends to be reserved and watchful, particularly when in the company of strangers. Although she enjoys the company of others well enough, she believes that she can learn more from watching and listening than from talking. Like all Bardings, she is a keen observer of human nature. Her approach to life is pragmatic and uncomplicated. She enjoys hearty food, drink, Though she herself is no musician.music and a good night's sleep, when she can get them. She also enjoys discovering new paths and secret places, and takes great delight in the perilous beauty to be found in the wilderness. History Solveig was born in Esgaroth upon the Long Lake in T.A. 2925, to Arnulf and Estrild. Her family, which included an older brother and sister and a younger brother, were struggling coopers. Although the quality of their craft was high, they couldn't source the materials needed to compete with the coopers of the Woodland Realm and Dorwinion. They mostly made their money from repairing damaged casks. Smaug's attack on Esgaroth hit the family hard. Solveig's mother and younger brother died in the attack, and their home and workshop were destroyed by the ensuing fires. Unable to face rebuilding his business in Esgaroth, Arnulf took his remaining family north to help Bard the Bowman rebuild Dale. They prospered, and Arnulf was able to secure apprenticeships for his children with the Dwarven toy-maker, Narvi. Solveig, however, was unsettled. Missing her mother and the life she'd had in Esgaroth, she frequently travelled back to her old home. To earn her keep, she hired on with merchants transporting goods between the two settlements. She soon realised, however, that she enjoyed life on the road more than life in either Dale or Esgaroth. She began exploring around the Long Lake, and signed on to merchant caravans travelling as far as Erebor, A Northman settlement at the southern tip of the Long Lake.Londaroth and even A small Wood-elf settlement on the eastern fringe of Mirkwood, and home to the 'Raft-elves'.Celebannon. She delighted in finding new paths and secret places, and longed to travel even further afield, but knew that travelling alone would be too dangerous. One day, on one of her increasingly-rare visits to her family in Dale, she overheard Narvi talking to her father about a planned expedition through Mirkwood. The merchant Baldor Rivergold, an acquaintance of Narvi, intended to bring Dalish smithcraft and jewels to Woodland Hall, a Northman settlement on the far western edge of Mirkwood. Narvi was negotiating with Baldor to take with him a crate of Dalish toys. Solveig knew instantly that this was the opportunity she had been waiting for, and begged Narvi for an introduction to Baldor... Roleplay Sample Solveig woke out of a dreamless sleep, instantly alert, knowing that something was amiss. She listened carefully. She could hear the heavy breathing of the merchant sharing the caravan with her, his breath hitching every now and then. She could hear something moving outside the caravan, something that wasn't the other caravan guard. Snuffling, rooting, looking for food. A bear, then. She carefully retrieved her broadsword and shield and opened the flap of the caravan. It was very dark. No moon, which meant that it was probably three or four hours past midnight. By the light of the stars, however, she could make out an animal rummaging around the camp. Definitely bear-sized. Where was the other guard? She clambered out of the caravan and looked around. The other guard had retreated away from the camp, and was nervously aiming his bow at the bear. "Don't you dare hurt it," she said sharply. The bear heard that and looked up. It wasn't very big, just a black bear roaming out of Mirkwood. It'd probably smelled their evening meal, and come a-scavenging. She unsheathed her broadsword and rapped it across her shield, making sure to hit the metal boss. The loud 'clang' startled the bear, and it huffed at her. Banging her shield repeatedly, she advanced on the bear. It looked at her in surprise for a moment, then fled, lumbering back towards the forest. The merchant poked his head through the flap. "What's going on?" "Just a bear," Solveig replied. "It's all right, it's gone. You can go back to sleep." The merchant stared at her for a moment, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was clearly only half-awake. But he nodded and withdrew back into the caravan. She lifted the lid off the cookpot, which thankfully the bear hadn't got around to investigating. Filling the ladle with cold, congealed stew, she began to eat directly from the ladle. It wasn't good. But food was food. She'd get something better, perhaps even a bottle of Elven wine, when they reached Celebannon. The other guard sidled back to the campsite. "I was only gone for a couple of minutes," he said, by way of apology. "Call of nature. When I came back, there was something in the camp." Solveig held back a sigh. Something in the camp? This one would never do. At least, not for guarding caravans, though he might just scrape by as regular town guard. Maybe. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I'll take over the watch. You get some sleep." Looking profoundly embarrassed, the guard nodded and clambered noisily, awkwardly into the caravan. She scouted around the campsite. Seeing and hearing nothing amiss, she propped herself up against one of the wheels of the caravan, pulled her hood over her head, and commenced her watch. It was three or four hours until dawn. She'd have to catch up on her sleep when they reached Celebannon. A Secret for Silent Rain Background: Lure of the Road Feature: Weather-Lore As a seasoned traveller you have an uncanny ability to predict the weather; you can ‘smell’ rain or snow earlier than others or sense when a fog is about to roll in. You also know the best places to shelter from sudden storms and which areas to avoid. You have well-established habits and the ability to quickly forage what you need before settling in to wait out a storm. You also have a good grasp of creature habits in various types of weather conditions; you know where bears hibernate and where a Goblin band is likely to camp when a storm hits. Distinctive Quality: Adventurous. You enjoy new challenges and experiences. Speciality: Fire-making. You can make camp anywhere. Hope: I’ve learned so much by being out in the world; I’d never have learned so much staying at home. Despair: I’ve seen nothing in my travels that suggests that we’ll be all right when the Shadow descends upon us.   | Solveig | Barding | Wanderer | Level 1 | HP: 12/12 | AC: 17 | HD: 1/1 | Speed: 30 Shadow Points: Permanent 0, Temporary 0 Inspiration: No <Stats> Str:12(+1) Dex:14(+2) Con:14(+2) Int:12(+1) Wis:16(+3) Cha:8(-1) <Weapons> Wielded: Broadsword, +5 attack, 1d8+2 damage Carried: Great bow, +5 attack, 1d8+2 damage, 20/20 arrows <Skills> Acrobatics:+2 Animal Handling:+5 Athletics:+3 Deception:-1 History:+1 Insight:+5 Intimidation:-1 Investigation:+1 Medicine:+3 Nature:+3 Perception:+5 Performance:-1 Persuasion:-1 Religion:+1 Sleight of Hand:+3 Stealth:+4 Survival:+5 Riddle:+1 Lore:+1 Shadow-Lore:+1 Traditions:+1 <Features> Shadow Weakness: Wandering-madness Class Features: Northern Dalelands, Long Marshes, Upper Marches, Woodland Realm, Northern Mirkwood and East Middle Vales. Long years spent roaming over the land have given you vast amounts of knowledge about some of the regions of Middle-earth. You know the terrain of such lands like the backs of your hands and your lore can seem almost unnatural to any companions traveling with you. At 1st level, choose 3 regions + a number of regions equal to your Wisdom modifier from the Middle-earth maps. When you make an Intelligence or Wisdom check related to a land you know, your proficiency bonus is doubled if you are using a skill you are proficient in. When you are traveling in one of your Known Lands you gain the following benefits: If any part of a journey passes through a land you know, the DC of your personal Event tests are lowered by 2. If the entire journey passes through lands you know, and you act as Guide, you lower the Peril Rating of the Journey by 2. You have advantage when making Wisdom saving throws against Corruption caused by Blighted lands you know. You cannot become lost under normal circumstances. You know at least one place in each Known Land where you can safely take a long rest: a settlement where you have friends, perhaps, or a hidden cabin in the woods or simply a dry and defensible cavern or secret glade. You have advantage on Dexterity (Stealth) ability checks and can move stealthily at a normal pace. While tracking other creatures, you automatically learn their exact number, their sizes and how recently they passed through the area. Known Lands, You have a great deal of experience from traveling through the wilderness and surviving the various dangers that the wild constantly offers. At 1st level, you have advantage on all Wisdom (Survival) ability checks when tracking others through the wilderness. If you act as a company’s Guide on a journey, you are considered to be assuming all vacant travelling roles (you are considered to ‘fill in’ as the company’s Hunter, Scout and Look-out at the same time, if no other companion is already covering that role).Ways of the Wild. Background Feature: As a seasoned traveller you have an uncanny ability to predict the weather; you can ‘smell’ rain or snow earlier than others or sense when a fog is about to roll in. You also know the best places to shelter from sudden storms and which areas to avoid. You have well-established habits and the ability to quickly forage what you need before settling in to wait out a storm. You also have a good grasp of creature habits in various types of weather conditions; you know where bears hibernate and where a Goblin band is likely to camp when a storm hits.Weather-Lore <Saves> Str:+3 Dex:+2 Con:+4 Int:+1 Wis:+3 Cha:-1

[Totentanzen]

Grimfara Name: Grimfara (Fierce-Traveler) Description: Grimfara is a Lean, well toned, fighter. His face is covered with a think black beard. His boots and armor are well worn but in good shape, much pride taken in their upkeep. His eyes a piercing brown, so dark, it almost looks soulless. The one redeeming quality though, is his smile. Very few people see it, but those who do, know of the warmth that radiates from that joyful face. Forsaken for his lust for battle, he found solace and community under the lordship of Beorn. Seeing him in battle would cause a chill to roll up even the most veteran spine. But deep down is a man who loves a good laugh. While Grimfara would never stray from a battle, he just as equally enjoys nights around the fire with friends and a good honey cake. Slow to trust, a friendship with him provides an eternal friend, always there to help. Culture: Boerning Class: Slayer History: From an early age Grimfara knew he was different. He had an unusual anger about him. As a child he got into many fights, many times over misunderstandings or even small injustices. His parents did their best to channel that energy into hobbies and crafts, but it never did much good. He grew older and larger, and so did the fights. Picking bouts with men twice his size, he would come home bruised and bloodied, but happy. He was a strong boy and it became well known. People began crossing the street just to avoid the chance he might find issue with them. When his parents fell ill and passed away he found no reason to stay in his hometown. So he left, passing the river Anduin with the last money he had, in search of the one man he thought would understand him. Roaming the land around Mirkwood forest, Grimfara looked for Beorn. Having grown up on the River Anduin he had heard the stories of the mystical bear man, and the comfort he brought others who didn't belong. It took him days to scour the area and he was nearly out of provisions. The sun was setting and he had sat down on a log and began to eat the last of his food for supper. Behind him a large bear, bigger than he had ever seen, came into view. Not a moment was spared, Grimfara grabbed his axes from the earth and stood tall and proud across the bear. Hands at the ready he growled in defiance towards the creature. It was obvious he was ready to fight to the death. The bear simply moved closer slowly, having cleared half the distance something peculiar happened. The creature started to recede and a man stood where it once was. The man had a long grey beard, and hair covered the majority of his head. Grimfara eased his stance as a chill ran up his spine. It was then he realized who it was. Beorn. Now a young man two decades have been spent in the land. Having not been born like many of his people, Grimfara always struggled to find his place, and by extent, his worth. Many positions of power were held on for decades, and chances for honor and greatness were far and few between since the great war. He was ready for any chance to prove his bravado, and his worthiness of living in Beorn's domain. At the age of 38 word traveled through of a merchant, east of the Mirkwood forest, looking to make his way through to the woodland hall. Knowing he would be of great help, and possibly get his chance, he sent word that he would aid, for the right price of course. Roleplay Sample: It had been nearly a fortnight and he was on the tail of a massive warg that had escaped his grasp. It had been terrorizing travelers and it was his duty to dispatch it. Grimfara trudged on the road keeping a steady pace and his footsteps quiet. He took a big whiff through his nostrils as the wind picked up. I've got you now. He thought as the smell confirmed he was going in the right direction. The sun was long gone and the moon had taken it's place. They met in an overrun spot in the forest. Moonlight broke through the canopy and illuminated the ground just enough to see. The warg was on the other side, 6 feet long and 5 feet tall. It was massive. It's gnarled face panted, letting globs of slobber drop to the floor. It's growl bellowed through the forest. Unhooking his axes from their holsters, the slayer gripped them tight, took a deep breath, and charged from his position running at the warg full speed. The creature did not hesitate to charge in response mouth open ready to snap the man in half. Calculating the distance between them, Grimfara dropped into a slide just as he was about 5 feet away and brought both axes down into the legs of the breast. He could feel sticks and thorns dig into his skin and he moved but he brushed off the pain as his muscles tightened for the impact. The blades slammed into bone as a howl went out from the Warg's mouth. It fell onto it's face about 10 feet behind him. It struggled to get up, collapsing to the ground each time it put pressure on it's broken legs. Calmly, Grimfara stood up and looked at the creature with a moment of pity, before taking his ax back behind his head and throwing it with perfect accuracy. The weapon flew through the air silently before landing in the Warg's head with a dull thud. The panting and cries were replaced by silence and the sounds of the forest.

Actions & Statblock   Morkul's Actions Initiative: Move: Action: Bonus: Reaction: Current Effect:   Grimfara Level 1 Slayer Medium Beorning AC 16 | HP: 15/15 |Furies Left: 2/2| Condition Normal Hit Dice 1d12 (1 remaining) | Inspiration: 0|Pemanent Shadow Points: 0|Temporary Shadow Points: 0 Initiative +2 | Speed 30 ft | Proficiency Bonus +2 | Passive Perception 10 STR 17(+3) | DEX 14(+2) | CON 16(+3) | INT 10(0) | WIS 10(0) | CHA 8(-1) Saving Throws Str* +5, Dex+2, Con* +5, Int +0, Wis+0, Cha -1 Skill Proficiencies Acrobatics +2 | Animal Handling* +2 | Arcana +0 | Athletics* +5 | Deception -1 | History +0 | Insight +0 | Intimidation* +1 | Investigation +0 |Lore +0| Medicine +0 | Nature +0 | Perception +0| Performance -1 | Persuasion -1 | Religion +0 |Riddle +0|Shadow Lore +0| Sleight of Hand +2 | Stealth +2 | Survival* +2|Traditions +0 Feats and Special Abilities Vale of Anduin TongueLanguages | As long as I can move freely while fighting I gain +1 Strength. I count as 1 size larger for carrying capacity and as long as I am less than half encumbered, I gain +1 to my ACGreat Strength | While I wear no armor my AC=10 + Con mod + Dex mod =15Unarmored Defense| For as many minutes as listed on the advancement table per day, I can enter into a battle fury. During that time I get the following benefits. You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws. When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a bonus to the damage roll that increases as you gain levels as a Slayer, as shown in the Fury Damage column of the Slayer table. You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage.Battle Fury| Curse of VengeanceShadow Weakness Physical Attack Melee: +5 | Finesse and Ranged: +4 Hit: 1d20+5 Damage: 1d12+3, SlashingGreat Axe| Hit: 1d20+5 Damage: 1d8+3, BludgeoningWarhammer| Hit: 1d20+5, Damage 1d6+3, Slashing, Thrown 20/60Hand Axe| Hit: 1d20+5/1d20+5, Damage 1d6+3,Damage 1d6Dual Wield Hand Axes| Hit: 1d20+5, Damage: 1d8+3, Piercing, Thrown 20/60Spear

[Touketsu]

Vormund Vormund of the North Downs Dúnedain Wanderer Description: Vormund sports the unmistakable build of a Ranger, both powerful and agile, with a certain roughness cultivated by a life in the wilds. Combined with a generally quiet demeanor, a first impression of Vormund might be that he is detached, or callous of heart. This couldn’t be further from the truth, as Vormund has a deep empathy for people, though his post has left him more accustomed to watching them from afar. Those who know Vormund have seen a warmth beneath the surface, and he is a reliable ally through thick and thin. Though he has limited experience with dwarves, elves, and even hobbits, Vormund possesses a natural curiosity and appreciation of their varying cultures, and he hopes to meet people from many walks of life on his travels. History:   Descended from a line of humble farmers, Vormund has seen very little of the lands beyond the North Downs, lands with a documented history of struggle and turmoil. Even now in an age of relative peace, the various farms and villages that litter the area see the occasional looming threat, and for that reason, the Rangers of the North remain a fixture in the region. Smaller and more scattered than in previous times, Rangers like Vormund have spent their lives moving between the settlements keeping a vigil, ever-protecting the people under their careful watch. In these regards, Vormund was no different than his brethren. As a child, Vormund inherited his path after a ranger rescued him from a terrible house fire that took his entire family. The experience deeply changed him in more ways than one; after overcoming his initial grief, Vormund was filled with a profound respect for the little-sung heroes of the woods, the hills and the valleys. His rescuer, a seasoned ranger by the name of Arden, took the boy under his wing and taught him the ways of these humble guardians. Taking to it like bird to the air, Vormund would go on to become a fine guardian to his people, being true to the destiny woven into the blood of Dúnedain. It has been said that many rangers of the North are the sons of long-forgotten kings. If this held any truth, Vormund was a noted exception. Still, what his blood may lack in nobility it more than made up for in dutiful valor. Though Vormund was satisfied in keeping the peace at home, overtime he longed to see a little bit more of the world beyond its borders, and would often spend his downtime reading what pieces of literature he could find about the world at large, and frequenting gathering spots to learn of current events. It was in this way that the ranger heard of rumblings in the east of a possible war; of the death of the great dragon Smaug, and what sounded like quite a conflict brought on by the resulting power vacuum. Vormund felt a call to action... he wasn’t one to fight in other men’s wars, but one of war’s many drawbacks is the impact is has on the citizenry. The ranger knew there would be innocents in need of help; supplies needing escort, civilians who needed some extra protection, and after it all, an extra set of hands to help rebuild. And so Vormund bid his homeland farewell, traveling east as far as his horse would take him, over the mountains, down the historic Old Forest Road, and finally north... to what remained of Lake-town. Vormund had missed the Battle of Five-Armies by mere weeks, though he would go on to hear all about the encounter in the weeks that followed. Despite the avoidance of all-out war, Smaug’s attack on the town and the following conflict had left the area in need of rebuilding, and with able-bodied folk in shorter supply, Vormund knew this was the task he’d come to see through. The next few years saw a rise in prosperity for the town, and in fact, the region. Vormund felt satisfied in having had a hand in restoring what had been ruined, having made many friends in the process; even a few dwarves, Vormund having made contact with Erebor on a few occasions during the relief efforts. With things finally settling in, Vormund began to feel that familiar itch; that he was meant to be somewhere else. Admittedly, it had been a long time since he’d left home, and part of him felt it might be time to return. As luck would have it, it was around the same time that Vormund heard about a merchant by the name of Baldor Rivergold, who was hiring escorts to take him west, across Mirkwood. Vormund couldn’t resist. Maybe just ONE more adventure on the way home... Roleplay Sample:   "Oy, Vormund, dwarf’s ‘ere to see ya" The ranger looked up from his pint toward the barman, following his extended finger to the stout gentleman standing in the doorway. Sure enough, there stood Kharac, a smith and businessman from Erebor, and the man Vormund had been waiting for since about half past 4. It was about 6 now, the agreed upon time, but that was Vormund’s way; whenever possible, he preferred to be early for meetings, and as he stood up from his seat and extended a hand, Vormund was in rather good spirits. "Thanks Garret. Another one of these for him, please." Pointing down at his tankard, Vormund turned his attention to the dwarf. "My friend, fine of you to make the trip down..." The ranger extended his hand, and the smiling dwarf strode briskly across the room to take it. "Heh heh, no trouble lad! Always willing to make time for you!" As the two men shook, Garret the barman brought over Kharac’s drink, and they sat down. "Well Vormund, it’s been a few weeks... you and the boys put up another warehouse or what?" Kharac’s grizzled voice rang with joviality, and he winked before taking a hearty pull from his tankard. Vormund smiled in his quiet, agreeable way. "Reinforcing the walls actually. With the town expanding so much, they thought it necessary to take additional precautions against bandits. I’ve tried telling them the real danger is further out on the trade roads, but you know how it is... anyway, I think there’s probably not much left to build." Kharac raised an eyebrow. "You just said yourself the town is expanding... doubt a man like you will have much trouble findin’ work for a long time." "Maybe so... but I didn’t come here to build a city... I came to rebuild a town. Help people who needed it. Way I see it, that’s done with. Sure there will always be work, but maybe it’s not the work I should be doing anymore... been thinking about home lately." "Ahhh... so it’s west then...." Kharac pondered that for a moment. "... well, that’s a shame. I hate to lose a regular customer. Or a valuable friend. In that order." Another wink and a chuckle, Vormund responding in kind with a laugh of his own. "But your probably right lad. You’re a ranger. You should be on the road and in the wild... though I don’t know it’s got to be the roads and wilds you came here from. Long as I’ve known you lad, you always talk about the world. Why not see what’s out there?" The dwarf downed the rest of his drink, finally letting out a satisfied sigh as he swallowed the last of it. "I’m sure the folk in the North Downs aren’t the only ones who need a protector." Vormund shrugged. "Well, I’ve been thinking I might take the long way back... south, toward the Gap of Rohan... or... maybe back through Mirkwood. There’s a job." Kharac shuttered. "A job taking you through Mirkwood? Nothing to do there except get lost, or eaten by giant bloody insects" "... you mean spi-" "Yeah yeah I know. Always gotta have the last word." The dwarf shook his head, gesturing for Garret to bring him over a refill. "So, I suppose that’s why you called me down here? For the book I mentioned? Certainly wasn’t for new equipment; I replaced damn near every piece on you already, save for that old dagger at your belt." Vormund shrugged again, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a small wooden pipe, preloaded with a bit of Old Toby. "Sorry Kharac, Arden gave it to me. Wouldn’t feel right using another one." A quick motion with his flint, and the ranger lit the pipe. "So yes... I’d like that elvish book you told me about. Now’s as good a time as any to try learning a little." He inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling. The dwarf snorted. "Beyond me what a man of your standing wants to learn elvish for. Too flowery... you should learn a proper language. Learn to speak like a dwarf." Vormund smirked and shook his head. "Too much cursing."Kharac laughed out loud. "Can’t argue with that! Well then tree boy..." Reaching into his bag, the dwarf pulled out a book marked with elvish script, sliding it across the table to his companion. Picking it up, Vormund lowered his pipe and gave his friend a nod. "My thanks. How much?" Kharac snorted again, waving a hand in the air. "Call it a parting gift. Part of me was only carrying the damn thing around because I knew you’d want it. Glad it found a home where it’s actually needed." Kharac flashed a grin, and Vormund returned it. As Garret delivered Kharac’s refill, the ranger raised his own flagon. "Well then... to being needed." The dwarf nodded, and as the two vessels clacked together, both men silently acknowledged their shared friendship and respect.

Stat Block   Vormund | Dúnedain | Level 1 Wanderer | Feature : Sigil of the Rangers - As an emissary you are entitled to a certain consideration amongst foreign peoples. While you cannot speak with the authority of your lord and master, you do receive some official respect. You can expect to pass through the lands of other Free Peoples unmolested, be able to call upon other kings and chieftains for lodging, and be received into the halls of power. Distinctive Quality: Honorable - You are the consummate diplomat and have garnered a reputation for being respectful with your foreign peers. Speciality: Smoking - You are well aware that the best negotiations often take place in informal settings when your fellow negotiators are at ease. Hope: My example inspires others to do the same. Despair: I can never forge strong bonds; I’m always on the move.Emissary of Your People | XP: - HP: 12/12 | AC: 16 | Speed: 30 | Hit Die: 1/1 (1d10) Shadow Points: Permanent 0, Temporary 0 Inspiration: No Weapons: Wielded: +5, 1d8+3 (150/600)Great Bow Carried: +5, 1d8+3Broadsword, +5, 1d4+3 (20/60)Dagger STR 10(+0) DEX 16(+3) CON 14(+2) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14(+2) CHA 14(+2) Saves: *Str:+2 Dex: +3 *Con: +4 Int: 0 Wis: +2 Cha: +2 Skills: Acrobatics:+3 Animal Handling:+2 Athletics:+0 Deception:+2 *History:+2 *Insight:+4 Intimidation:+2 *Investigation:+2 Medicine:+2 Nature:0 *Perception:+4 Performance:+2 *Persuasion:+4 Religion:-1 Sleight of Hand:+3 *Stealth:+5 *Survival:+4 Riddle:0 Lore:0 Shadow-Lore:0 *Traditions:+2 Languages: Sindarin, Westron Shadow Weakness: Wandering-madness Class Features: West Middle Vales, East Middle Vales, Western Mirkwood, Mountains of Mirkwood, Long Marshes Long years spent roaming over the land have given you vast amounts of knowledge about some of the regions of Middle-earth. You know the terrain of such lands like the backs of your hands and your lore can seem almost unnatural to any companions traveling with you. At 1st level, choose 3 regions + a number of regions equal to your Wisdom modifier from the Middle-earth maps. When you make an Intelligence or Wisdom check related to a land you know, your proficiency bonus is doubled if you are using a skill you are proficient in. When you are traveling in one of your Known Lands you gain the following benefits: If any part of a journey passes through a land you know, the DC of your personal Event tests are lowered by 2. If the entire journey passes through lands you know, and you act as Guide, you lower the Peril Rating of the Journey by 2. You have advantage when making Wisdom saving throws against Corruption caused by Blighted lands you know. You cannot become lost under normal circumstances. You know at least one place in each Known Land where you can safely take a long rest: a settlement where you have friends, perhaps, or a hidden cabin in the woods or simply a dry and defensible cavern or secret glade. You have advantage on Dexterity (Stealth) ability checks and can move stealthily at a normal pace. While tracking other creatures, you automatically learn their exact number, their sizes and how recently they passed through the area. Known Lands | You have a great deal of experience from traveling through the wilderness and surviving the various dangers that the wild constantly offers. At 1st level, you have advantage on all Wisdom (Survival) ability checks when tracking others through the wilderness. If you act as a company’s Guide on a journey, you are considered to be assuming all vacant travelling roles (you are considered to ‘fill in’ as the company’s Hunter, Scout and Look-out at the same time, if no other companion is already covering that role).Ways of the Wild. Virtue: You resist Shadow corruption better than most, for your spirit is resolute, and your mind is not easily overthrown. Raise your Wisdom score by 1 point. You have advantage on Wisdom saving throws against Corruption.Sterner than Steel

[Elanir]

Nolmendil Name: Nolmendil („friend of wisdom“ in Quenya) Description: Nolmendil is a typical Noldo elf with long black hair, fair skin and almond eyes of the color of the deep blue sea. He is usually composed, friendly and polite, but there are also times when the Shadow weighs heavy on him, causing his eyes to take a pained, haunted look. He stands at about 6 feet 2 inches, is lithe and graceful and wears long flowing robes when residing in Imladris. Culture: High Elf (Noldo) of Rivendell Class: Scholar Background: Emissary of your People History: Nolmendil was one of the Eldar of Imladris that had accompanied the White Council to the dreaded fortress of Dol Guldur. While Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Saruman the White faced the Necromancer, it was their soldiers from Lothlórien and Imladris that fought against the Enemy’s orc forces that were defending the fortress and their fell Master. When Sauron was driven from the ruins of Dol Guldur and the White Council got word of Smaug’s demise and the Battle of Five Armies, Elrond tasked Nolmendil with traveling to Lake-town, having a look for himself and informing the Halfelven about the current situation. Nolmendil did as told but after seeing the havoc the dragon had wreaked upon the town, decided to stay there and help the people with his healing skills. Over the next few years he came to know Men much better and even befriended some of them, including the merchant Baldor Rivergold who often made the trip from Dale to the rebuilt Lake-town in search of resources and customers. When the merchant asked the Noldo to accompany him in his next journey through Mirkwood, Nolmendil readily agreed for he hoped to see the Shadow lifted from the once greatest of forests.   Nolmendil leaned against the half-ruined wall that had protected him from being surrounded during the fight, took a deep breath and tried to control his trembling right hand so that he wouldn‘t let his bloodied sword fall from his grasp. He closed his eyes tightly and refused to open them again for fear of seeing how many friends and allies had fallen to the servants of the Enemy. The sharp pain in his left thigh and right shoulder were clear indications that he had been wounded by the filthy weapons of the orcs. The healer in him knew that the cuts would have to be treated soon if they were not to become infected. Even more important however was the treatment of the injuries his companions had sustained, many much more serious than his own. And yet, despite the realization of the importance of acting without delay, he dreaded opening his eyes. How many were beyond any assistance he could offer, beyond even the fabled healing skills of Elrond Halfelven? How many lives had been lost today, how many dreams cut short? How much darker had the world grown despite their victory? For a victory it had been, despite their heavy losses. All Eldar had immediately sensed the banishment of the Necromancer from his hideout in Dol Guldur. An invisible weight had been lifted from their hearts, the light seemed somehow brighter, the air cleaner. That did not mean that the Enemy was forever vanquished, merely defeated. He would regain his strength within a few decades, possibly sooner, his armies of orcs, wargs and goblins would multiply like vermin, while the power of the Eldar had almost been depleted. How could they hope that goodness and light would in the end prevail? It was his master‘s voice asking for assistance in treating the wounded that finally freed Nolmendil from the grasp of despair. Lord Elrond looked utterly spent after facing the Enemy but his voice had lost none of his authority. Nolmendil‘s sense of duty proved stronger than the power the Shadow had over his heart, and the healer dropped anything he didn’t need at the moment, including his sword and empty quiver, in order to take out clean bandages, poultices and medicinal herbs from his satchel. His skills were nowhere near as remarkable as those of Lord Elrond, but he had spent hundreds of years under the Halfelven’s tutelage and he possessed a knack for comforting the wounded and the ill. The treatment of the mind and the heart was as important as the treatment of the body, this had been the first thing he had learned from the lord of Imladris. The next hours passed as in a dream and Nolmendil was unable to recall the exact details of any actions he performed after the battle of Dol Guldur. He worked mechanically, his skilled hands dressing wounds and applying poultices, offering what water and wine he could find and gently whispering to the ones that had no hope of seeing the sun rise over southern Mirkwood ever again, speaking to them about the eternal light of Valinor and offering whatever consolation he was able to. It was once again Elrond that put an end to his trance-like state. He felt the Halfelven‘s hands help him rise to his feet and only then did he realize that the Noldor warrior he had been softly singing to had already passed away, his unmoving eyes staring at something beyond the mortal world. Without a word, the elven lord examined Nolmendil‘s wounds, cleaned and bound them and then offered him a slice of bread, a drink of water and words that calmed his anguished heart. "I know your thoughts, my friend, and I see your heart. This victory feels like no victory at all. And yet, the Shadow has been forced to leave. Elsewhere the light has prevailed as well." "Elsewhere?" Nolmendil was surprised at Elrond‘s words. He had been unaware that there were others fighting against the Enemy. "Do you mean…?" "Smaug is no more, brought low by a descendant of the Lords of Dale. The Lonely Mountain is once more in the hands of Durin‘s folk. An army of orcs, wargs and bats was bested by Thranduil and his Sindar fighting side by side with dwarves, men and Giant Eagles. Light has prevailed. " Elrond knew that there was much to say beyond what he had revealed to his friend but he saw no point in further burdening his already heavy spirit. "So, Thorin Oakenshield and the dwarves have succeeded in reclaiming their heritage and the Men are free of the dragon‘s influence. That is indeed good news. I hope the hobbit is also alive and well. I only spoke to him once during his visit in Imladris but I am fond of him. He has a kind of practical wisdom and his heart is undoubtedly in the right place. I shouldn’t be surprised since he was chosen by Mithrandir." Nolmendil knew better that to ask Lord Elrond what was the source of these tidings. An Eldar as wise and knowledgeable as the master of Imladris was always well-informed about anything important happening upon the face of Middle Earth. Neither did he ask what it was that he was keeping from him. He knew the Halfelven well enough to realize that he had chosen to show him only one side of the coin. Still, if that was the lord‘s decision, he would respect it and not ask for more. "Good news, yes…", said Elrond almost absentmindedly. It was clear that his mind was feverishly working, analyzing every side of the situation, trying to anticipate future events. A decision was made, it seemed, for Elrond looked his friend deep in the eyes. "Nolmendil, I need someone to travel to the north: the Woodland kingdom, Lake-town, the Lonely Mountain. There are too many uncertain factors at the moment, too much is hidden from my vision. I need someone capable to see things as they are and let me know if anything should change. The dragon is dead but the Shadow persists. The Lonely Mountain with its unimaginable wealth would make a prime target for the Enemy and Men usually cannot resist the Shadow for long. It would please me if you were to be this individual. I trust both you and your skills, my friend… and perhaps you can do some good there. Perhaps that is what you need at the moment." "Leave Imladris?" Nolmendil had lived there his entire life and the times when he had traveled away from it were few and far between. How would he fare in the lands of the northeast next to men, dwarves and his rather belligerent cousins of the Woodland Realm? Would they accept him? As if reading his thoughts, Elrond attempted to ease his fears. "Only for a little while. I could send another but I believe that you will profit from close contact with the people living around Long lake. There is light in many of them still and to see that might in turn lighten your spirit. You are in need of hope and I think after the demise of the dragon that is a commodity you will find among them." "As you say, my lord." Fearing that he might be misunderstood, Nolmendil was quick to add: "My friend. I shall be your eyes and ears in the land that formerly belonged to the dragon. And I shall open my heart to its people. I am eager to walk among them and know their hearts and minds. If they are anything like Bilbo, I daresay I will indeed profit."   Actions Action: Reaction: Bonus: Move: Effects: Concentration: Stat Block Nolmendil | High Elf of Rivendell | Scholar 1 Armor Class: 13 | Hit Points: 9/9 | Speed: 30 ft Melee Attack: +3 / 1d6+1 (short sword) or 1d4+1 (dagger) Ranged Attack: +3 / 1d6+1 (short bow) | Arrows: 20 Str 10 (+0) | Dex 12 (+1) | Con 12 (+1) | Int 14 (+2) | Wis 16 (+3) | Cha 14 (+2) Saving throws: Str +0 | Dex +1 | Con +2 | Int +4 | Wis +5 | Cha +2 Skills: History +4 | Lore +4 | Medicine +5 | Perception +5 | Persuasion +4 | Traditions +4 | Herbalism Kit | Calligrapher‘s Supplies Hands of a Healer 3 x 1d6+3/LR | News from Afar Hope: What unites us should be more important than what divides us. Despair: The Shadow‘s influence is too strong; my entreaties often fall on deaf ears. Passive Perception: 15 | Inspiration: 0 | Hit Dice: 1d8 Shadow Points (temporary/permanent): 0/0 Languages: Westron | Sindarin | Quenya | Tongues of Many Peoples

[Avner]

Name: Vidar son of Frór
Description: A strong and stocky dwarf wit a braided brown beard and known for carrying a large axe. He is heavily armored and carries himself with honor.
Culture: Dwarves of The Lonely Mountain (Iron Hills)
Class Warrior
Background: Doomed to Die
Distinctive Quality:
Hardy. Fate will not find you resting on your laurels; you will trudge through storms and long roads to meet it.

Specialty:
Dark Secrets. You have recognized the influence of Shadow and you are certain that its advance is what has sealed your fate.

Hope: The Shadow must be rid of me because I am strong.

Despair: I shall never find comfort in a new home.

Shadow Weakness: Lure of Power

History: If there was something true about Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain it was that they had an innate hatred for dragons. The long War if the Dwarves and Dragons had driven them from their home. Their ancestral home had been long taken by a Balrog and now they were forced to attempt to make their way in the surface world. Some of the dwarves had tried to find new homes, to start again and head to the Iron Hills or some other place. Vidar's father Frór was one of the dwarves who answered the call to take back the Lonely Mountain, but claimed that all they were doing was taking down the latest evil and setting roots before they ran again from the next terrible thing. His father was a grump dwarf with a pessimistic look on everything and it wore on him. They didn't last long in the Lonely Mountain until Frór began to question what evil was going to come take their home away. Deciding that he wanted the choice to be his and not some dragons he began to take on work elsewhere to make the coin needed for his family swearing one day they would face any troubles that came their way unlike his kinfolk. The irony of the fact that he was running before the trouble came was lost on the dwarf, but he was hard headed and stuborn and couldn't be reasoned with when called on it.
A warrior at heart Frór taught his son to keep his blade sharp and to never set roots, that way he couldn't be disappointed when he had to move on if he never called any place home to begin with could he? Not that his father accepted fleeing as an option, he claimed if they ever came toe to toe with a dragon they would either face it or die trying.

So his family had taken up transport protection on the only place they knew would bring them close to a dragon and had passed the responsibility from generation to generation. Of course now that Smaug had been killed a lot of what he had been transporting were dragon trinkets and souvenirs for those passing through to see what the great Bard and his fellow humans had accomplished. It drove Vidar sick that a people could worship a dragon so, yet he perceived and looked for any excuse to break from his father's excuse for an honorable life. Vidar wanted to fight for the mountain again to be the steal against the darkness and to answer the call when they needed him... not to transport Dragon statues.

For Vidar working the trade routes between the Mirkwood and the surrounding mountains had come to be routine. He had just finished a job and was enjoying a drink in the local tavern when . A Dalian merchant, by the name of Baldor Rivergold, came in prattling about how he had the best jewels in Mirkwood. As a dwarf Vidar had an eye for such things and wanted to see if the man spoke true. It began in a fair challenge over a round of drinks if the dwarf had seen finer. Appreciating Vidar's eyes for jewels and fine Dalish smithcraft he offered the dwarf a place guarding the caravan from Mirkwood to Woodland Hall. Preferring it to some of the other merchants goods Vidar took on the job without hesitation.

Roleplay Sample:
The rain poured down on the caravan as Vidar trudged through the muddy road next to the wagon. The sky was dark and forgave no light that might somehow brighten up the journey and make it that much more bearable. The dwarf found it fitting for the task at hand as he carried his large axe over his shoulder and looked around the side roads.

"Wet... soppy, I can't remember de last time me bones were dry an for what? Ta be gettin a few dragon statues over to some merchant? They ain't be worth the stone they be carved on if ye be askin' me! I can't be rememberin' if I'm dwarf or fish!" he complained to one of the fellow wagon guards.

"Smaug relics make a killin' on the market from what I hear, its not bad for business..."

"Well the only good dragon be a dead dragon if ye ask me..." Vidar quickly quipped back.

"...but Smaug is a dead dragon..."

"Oh shut ye trap ye fool and keep your eyes on the road! That not be me point and ye know it." he said as he tried to shake off some of the damp wetness that was collecting on him. "Bandits be lovin' this sorta weather and this is on dwarf they will not be sneaking up on." he said as a matter of pride.

Little did he know the caravan had managed to ride right into an ambush in the gorge of the mountain pass as ropes suddenly dropped with bandits on them. The group was caught completely unprepared. "What ye be doin dryin ye undergarments?! Let's get to showin these fellers what its like to face a dwarf of the Grey Mountain!" he shouted as he charged forward. "If anyone can match me number I'll be buyin the next round when we make town!" he said as he swung his axe into one of the bandits so hard he knocked him into to two more. "That counts as three!!!" he shouted as he charged into battle.

Actions   Reszo's Actions Move: Action: Bonus: Reaction: Current Effect:

Vidar son of Frór   Vidar son of Frór Dwarves of The Lonely Mountain (Iron Hills) Warrior Att Mod Save Str 17 +3 +5 Dex 8 -1 -1 Con 17 +3 +5 Int 10 0 0 Wis 13 +1 +1 Cha 10 0 0 Sheet     HP 26/26 AC Unarmored Defense19/Agile Perry21 Initiative -1 Inspiration 0 Prof Bonus +2 Passive Percep 9 Second Wind 1/1 Weapons +5, 1d8+3,SlashAxe +1,1d8-1,PierceGreat bow Key Skills Athletics +5 Insight +1 Intimidation +2 Medicine +1 Perception +3 Survival +3 Stone Cunning +4 Tradition +2 Smiths Tools +5 Warrior Defense Fighting Style Second Wind Languages Common Daelish Secret Dwarf Senses Night Vision Homeland Iron Hills