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Old Apr 1st, 2020, 01:15 PM
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The Adventurers

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.

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

Last edited by Silent Rain; Apr 24th, 2020 at 11:00 AM.
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Old Apr 18th, 2020, 05:27 PM
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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.

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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."

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Last edited by Helvorix; Apr 22nd, 2020 at 10:23 AM.
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Old Apr 18th, 2020, 06:45 PM
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Barding Wanderer


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 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.


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...

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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.

Currently on a leave of absence from RPGx.

Last edited by Telcontar; Apr 24th, 2020 at 06:55 PM.
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Old Apr 18th, 2020, 08:15 PM
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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


Last edited by Totentanzen; Apr 19th, 2020 at 01:06 PM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2020, 01:43 AM
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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.


Roleplay Sample:
Stat Block
I have taken the Oath!

Last edited by Touketsu; Apr 24th, 2020 at 06:06 PM.
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Old Apr 19th, 2020, 07:01 AM
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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.


I have taken the Oath of Sangus

Last edited by Elanir; Apr 22nd, 2020 at 06:13 PM.
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Old Apr 20th, 2020, 08:31 PM
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Peace was never an option
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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.

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.

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.


Vidar son of Frór
Come Join the High Seas in the new 7th Sea Adventure currently recruiting Blades, Betrayal, and Brotherhood

Last edited by Avner; Apr 27th, 2020 at 08:35 AM.
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