Thread: Character Profiles
Now, here's an example. Do as I do for Turiluve. Thanks! ^_^
Name: Turiluve Geomyr, son of Muryn
Race: Man of Eorlingas
Home: Edoras, Rohan
Weapon of Choice: Spear, sword, and shield
Rank: Nomadic Outrider
Appearance: Deep dark brown eyes, black hair, short beaded beard, his cloak and armor with the Rohirrim symbol upon it. He doesn't stay near Edoras, but he is a deep loyalist anyway. But his thick scar marked over his left cheek fills people with questions, and fear, for it makes him look incredibly eerie.
Characteristics: Keeps to himself, neither optimistic and pessimistic, rarely speaks, unless he must, and stern. But despite these characters he is a good man, and fights for anything he finds a good cause, no matter what. He trains with his weapons endlessly, to the point where he seems unstoppable. It will take more than a few trolls to stop him... especially when he's angry. He is seldom so, but there have been such times ere. He rides on his horse, Aldor, always. He's as close to him as a spouse would. He seems to hunt for something, or someone, always. He makes the fear enter those who see him, even without intent, causing many to wonder if the war is really over. But he is a human nevertheless, and has a good heart. He will do anything for a good cause he find righteous and just... even if he inflicts harm to others...
The Fourth Age was not one he loved. His fear was eternally gone after what he had done to those he loved - what harm he had done them. The trolls and orcs before him caused him to flee. And there was a cruel cost. Now he would never see his wife-to-be, his brother, or his entire family - again. Or would he?
Haunted by the past, scarred by more than just the wound over his cheek, he wanders the lands as a nomad. He hates who he was - who he felt betrayed by, and Sauron, even in death, for what he had done. The end of war only brought the memory of the passed shadow, and all that it had done. The crushed walls of the Hournberg, the crumbled lands of Minas Tirith, the torn trees surrounding Dol Guldur, the emptied lands of Lothlorien, Rivendell, which now Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits - the last loyalists of Middle-earth, would populated. And likely crumble. The sight of ruins, with history of ages ago brought him harmony, but to ruin the very memory of it with industry sickened him.
His loyalty for what Eomer had done for his people when all hope was lost pleased him.
Along his endless roads, he passed upon one who many supposed was dead - Pallando of the Istari. Alatar's location was a mystery still, but his path was his own, be it doom or glory.
He wanders the world with a hidden face under his long Rohirrim cloak, further memory of his family, for that cloak his mother wove him for warmth when war came over the land.
What is Turiluve's purpose? His goal? His mission? What has caused him so much grief? And will he ever be at peace with himself?
Race: Dunedain (a distant relative of Aragorn)
Occupation: Ranger/historian (seeking to recover the greatness of Numenor)
Physical Appearance: Dark Brown hair, green eyes, travel worn clothes and tattered cloak and hood, sword at his side.
Equipment: sword named Morfaroth (longsword with a dark red blade and a sunstone inset into the pommel) with a simple yet effective sheath, typical bow and quiver of arrows of a ranger, a war-horn.
Skills/Abilities: skilled swordsman, blacksmith, bowman, stealth, wilderness lore.
Magical Abilities: Morfaroth (because it is crafted in the fasion of Westernesse) is extremely fatal to all things tainted by Mordor, can speak with animals and plants.
Weapon of Choice: Short Staff, Battle Ax, Dagger
Age: Early middle age, exact age unknown
Appearance: long, dark brown hair usually tied back in a messy bun, warm brown eyes, weathered face from years of travel, early middle-age
Characteristics: Steady, easy-going and grounded, she is diplomatic and not easily angered. She is very wise, mysterious and maternal, but despite this she can be very sarcastic. She also has a habit of disappearing for days at a time to gather ingredients for her magics.
Skills: Fjorgyn is very diplomatic, but is an unequaled fighter especially with her preferred weapons. She is also well learned in herb lore, and is highly skilled in earth magic
Weaknesses: She suffers from a crippling fear of heights to the extent that she will not even ride a horse unless it is a matter of life and death, and her bluntness and outspokenness frequently get her in trouble with those that don't know her
Prologue: Little is known about Fjorgyn's past except that she has been traveling since she was very young. She is often seen as a 'walking contradiction' because, although she generally tries to find diplomatic solutions to problems, she never runs from battle and is an unequaled fighter. It has often been speculated that she was once a soldier, but no one is sure.
RACE:Man of Eorlingas
WEAPON:Sword,knife,bow and arrow
RANK:Nomad(almost a ranger)
APPEARANCE:Sharp black eyes,shoulder length black hair,silver and green travelling dress with earth brown fitted cloak,always carrying weapons and riding her black horse.
CHARACTERISTICS:Independent,willful,strong as a silver sword yet in heart,soft as velvet.
SKILLS:Excellent bowman and horse rider,a healer by touch
PROLOGUE:A mistress of disguise full of mysteries and pasts,a Robin hood.angry yet kind.
Name: Eámanë Amdíriel Helyanwë
Race: Elf (Noldor)
Home: Wherever my feet take me.
Physical Appearance: 180 cm (5’ 11&rdquo tall, with a trim physique. Eámanë has
dark brownish red, waist-length hair and green eyes.
Wears: A shirt of Mithral under earth-toned tunics, brown or green leggings, and
forest green boots.
Skills: Most survival skills needed to stay alive on the road or in the forest.
Weapons: Quite good with either a sword or bow. She still has the sword she
used at Dagorlad. Her bow was a gift from the Lord and Lady of Lórien.
Language: Sindarin, Westron, Common Tongue
Prologue: I was born in 1216 SA and raised in the Kingdom of Lórien, daughter of Amdír, the king.
In 3434 SA I fought alongside my father and Gil-Galad at Dagorlad. That was the darkest day of my life. My father, my teacher, my friend, fell in battle. For many lifetimes of Men I wandered aimlessly, trying to escape the overwhelming grief I felt.
Since the day I came to terms with my grief I have wandered the paths of Arda seeking solitude, and helping where needed. My company and my council are my own, venturing into villages or towns only when I must. Most of my time has been spent in the south watching for movement by those that pay allegiance to the dark lord.
My skills with the bow and the sword are good, having kept me alive on many occasions. I count myself lucky to have been taught these skills by my father when I was a very young Elf, skills that were honed in battle and many years on the road.
There are two indulgences that I allow myself only rarely, when I can let my guard down. That is to enjoy a goblet of wine and a good book.
I am Eámanë Amdíriel Helyanwë and this is my story.