712bc8 No.9552 [Last50 Posts]
The year is TA 328. High King Eldarion I, Son of Aragorn II Elessar, has just died. His son, Aranyond I, has ascended to the throne at the age of Forty-Six. Most men of the Reunited Kingdom have not known conflict, as the War of the Ring ended over three centuries ago, and King Elessar’s wars of unification ended hundreds of years ago. The ents of Fangorn and a handful of the most ancient dwarves remember the heroism that led to the downfall of the second Dark Lord and Enemy of the World. However, whispers of an evil cult have persisted for over a century, though none of the rumors have any credence to them. The realm of Man is peaceful. Some elves have elected to remain in Middle Earth after the War of the Ring, for it is the land that they have always known. They yet reside in Mirkwood, Lothlorien, and Imladris, with many others scattered throughout Arda. The Hobbits of the Shire continue their peaceful, solitary existence and remain ignorant of the world outside their borders. The Dwarves of Middle Earth live and work in their deep halls, as they ever have, with many living in Khazad-Dum (Retaken by Durin VII, ruled by Durin IX), Erebor, or Belegost. Harad and Rhun are autonomous, with some of their land being ruled by the Reunited Kingdom after the reunification wars of Elessar I. They enjoy a happy peace with the people of Middle Earth. The land is in the midst of a golden age, and it seems that the dark shadows of the past have been thrown off forever.
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712bc8 No.9554
You are a denizen of Middle Earth, residing in the Reunited Kingdom or one of its allied states. But who exactly are you?
Fill out the following fields:
Name:
Race:
Age:
Gender:
Fluff:
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Inventory:
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712bc8 No.9557
Name: Tabur the Inquisitive
Race: Dwarf
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Fluff: Known for putting his nose where it doesn't belong Tabur is the kind of dwarf to go where he shouldn't go, dig where he shouldn't dig and ask what's best left unasked. As such he is always on the move, either looking for the next interesting thing, or running away from an angry mob. But he wouldn't have it any other way, the world if filled with wonders and lost treasures to be found, and he is out to find them all.
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712bc8 No.9565
>>9552
Name: Nimen Ador-penn
Race: Elf (Avari)
Age: 94
Gender: Male
Fluff: It is said that the fate of elves is twofold - to pass back into the West, and live among the Valar in the Undying Lands, or to remain, and slowly fade until they are less than spirits. The Avari do not have this choice. They were the Unwilling, who did not follow Orome into Valinor when the world was young. And for that they have paid, consigned to the deep forests and untouched places of the world, ignored by all but the earliest Men.
Nimen relives this truth daily, one so connected to the earth but forever separate from its inhabitants. Hunting, tracking, knowing the land better than any short-lived race could. He comes from the Penni tribe of Avari in the far east, hence his surname, but has long wished to experience the world of the Eldarin, their culture, their ways. Sadly, he was born too late to encounter them at their height. But Nimen still holds out hope, that if he can learn from the High Elves, he can bring some of that greatness and renown back to his own people.
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712bc8 No.9572
>>9552
Name: Sergiy Grishko
Race: Human
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Fluff: Sergiy was a simple baker, harvesting wheat from his farms to make bread and sell it for his family. Eventually, he managed to gather enough money to buy a herd of cattle, and make a fence for the cows. He then sold beef to caravans, adventurers, military groups, and anybody traveling in his area. He was a popular source of food in his area, and managed to hoard together enough currency to buy himself some very basic training, a rusty sword, and something harder than ragged clothing. He handed over the business to the rest of his family, and set out in thirst of adventure, and glory.
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712bc8 No.9573
>>9552
Name: Urcaugh
Race: Uruk-Hai
Age: 421
Gender: Male
Fluff: Urcaugh, son of Acuzel, Warchief of the Clan Sraez. As much one can be a Warchief of the motley remnants of what was once the great and fearsome army of the Black Orcs, their forges burnt and fortresses razed by the armies of man. A captain before the great defeat, Urcaugh has bided his time, his hand forced by the fires of men, who now are so bold as to step into Mordor itself. Soon, it will be time. Soon, the blade of Urcaugh will feel more than the occasional scout, and the new armies will march once more. Soon, Warchief Urcaugh will make men tremble with fear at his name as their cities burn and their fortresses crumble. Soon, this world will remember the Uruk-Hai are far from dead.
Physically, he is a massive orc, standing at 8' with an intimidating and heavily muscled physique from his age, the oldest Uruk-Hai alive by a mile, and possibly the oldest one to ever live. A follower of Azog the Defiler during his time walking Middle-Earth, Urcaugh's skin is white with magic taint, eyes a sickly blue in imitation of his former leader. He still hopes and wishes for the return of Sauron, to lead the Uruk-Hai to greatness once more - but in the stead of the strongest of the strongest, Urcaugh himself will lead the Uruk-Hai to trample men into the dust.
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Post last edited at
712bc8 No.9574
>>9552
>Name:
Axantur Marravar
>Race:
Black Numenorean
>Age:
23
>Gender:
Male
>Fluff:
Axantur; latest scion of the ambitious line of Marravar, is a scheming, grasping, spiteful bastard. Everything he sees, he covets - from gold and jewels to servants and women. Raised on tales of how his family has been consistently denied their birthright as nobles, he is defined by passion and jealousy - and no tool is too low, too despicable, too sinister - so long as he can reclaim his family's holdings.
His family history is as dark as any other Black house. A rich family in the haven of Umbar, they once had fleets of raiders, slavers and pirates to do their bidding. Gold ran to them in rivers, and his family long ago lived lives of shameless, hedonistic overindulgence. But when King Elessar led the reunited kingdom in retaking the city for Gondor, they had to flee. None of them could possibly have escaped justice for long had they remained.
Taking only what fortunes they could smuggle out of the city in time, they disappeared into the far east - where their mad family brooded for years, trying to keep their numenorean line as 'pure' as possible, inbreeding when they could not find other outcasts of sufficiently storied stock. And all the while, filling the heads of their wretched children with tales of birthright and privilege, of opportunities stripped away, and lives of power and command stripped from their grasp.
Axantur yearns to hone his skills of swordsmanship and sorcery, intrigue and mastery, and in so doing acquire the tools to cast down the reunited kingdom once and for all, raising the forgotten and maltreated exiles to their rightful places once again.
Skills:
Inventory:
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712bc8 No.9575
>>9552
>Name: Khamûl son of Khamûl
>
>Race: Human: Easterling:Variag
>
>Age: 28
>
>Gender: Male
>
>Fluff: Khamûl was a warrior in the tribe's military he went on many raids and was fairly successful. However he soon got bored of these basic fights and barely making enough to live off till next raiding season. Whispers of instability and possible riches have poured in from the west and so Khamûl now finds himself in Gondor itself serving as a mercenary and bodyguard waiting his chance to rise to greatness
>
>Do not fill out the following:
>
>Skills:
>
>Inventory:
>
>Bonus:
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712bc8 No.9577
Name: Prince Emanssor
Race: Dúnedain Human
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Fluff: A younger brother of Aranyond I, and son of High King Eldarion I, Gods rest his soul, Emanssor shares the bloodline of his forefather, that of the High King Elves, and of the Dúnedain and of Numenor. His father, like his great Grandfather Aragorn ii Elessar, continued the tradition, having courted and married elven royalty as his Queen, thus continuing the trend in the bloodlines of the Kings of Gondor, blessing them with long life over lesser men.
From a young age he trained with his brother, and while the the eldest son groomed himself to be a King, Emanssor sought a niche of his own. Gifted the life of a royal and education, but freed of the great responsibility of being heir, he took his education and training in a more special direction. Aranyond learned politics on how to speak as King, Emanssor learned how to speak as himself. Aranyond learned how to manage the Kingdom from above, Emanssor focused on managing it from the inside. When he was 16 his father gave him the task to manage a small market district in disrepair, by the third month he had increased its efficiency and standard of living two-fold, and by the first year his influence had already spread his influence across 7 more city districts, and fostering a close relationship with Doromir II, the aged Steward of Gondor, and grandchild of Elboron son of Boromir. His experience here, imbibing on the trade of the world that flowed into Minas Tirith helped teach him much about the outside world, in particular the Dwarves whom crafted items of great value. Together with the house of the Stewards, they made the jewel of Gondor shine.
Management, not Rule, was his lot in life, and he took it with pride, fostering and overseeing the growth of the Capital.
But as time grew on, even while the Kingdom basked in a golden age of peace, more and more he felt concerned, uneased.
The lessons he had learned when reading the history books, and when studying and seeing over the whims of the market, have all pointed to this one fact:
Every moment of peace and growth will always be proceeded by a period of war and loss. Time and again, this fact has resounded throughout history, for every hill a vale, for every rise a fall.
War will come to Gondor, and perhaps sooner than anyone realized. And all Gondor was content to do was sit and bask in the sun even as the stormclouds would gather.
But his skills had also taught him this much, capitalizing rapid growth was the key to surviving and thriving through any ecomic down-turn. When times were good you acted, not rested, you used the opportunity. You gathered the harvest for the winter months.
Emanssor took up this task, just as his brother became King he warned him of his concerns, and pledged that he would go forth and strengthen the Kingdom of Gondor by whatever means necesssary
Do not fill out the following:
Skills:
Inventory:
Bonus:
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712bc8 No.9601
>>9573
>>9574
(2/2 former enemies, no more will be accepted henceforth)
>>9577
(1/2 Noblemen)
Enemies and noblemen will face their own distinct challenges, like every other character, but more so. For example, an Uruk would be extremely hard pressed to move through a Gondorian town unrecognized. An inbred, egotistical Black Numenorian would have an easier time at navigating the various towns of Middle Earth, but his abrasive nature could grate a little thin on other people's nerves. Likewise, a Gondorian nobleman might be expected to attend balls and other such events as his rank dictated. Such a person would be recognizable, and thus find it difficult to blend into a crowd, should the need arise.)
Keep things like this in mind when making or playing atypical characters. Like I said, there's room for one more noble.
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712bc8 No.9605
>>9601
So is my guy out then?
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712bc8 No.9610
>>9605
He seems like he would work less for the Enemy and more for himself. He's fine. Freelance/neutral characters don't need to be grouped into any one faction, whereas Emanssor would NEED to be Gondorian unless extenuating circumstances arose, while Urcaugh is, by his nature, incapable of serving anyone not affiliated with the Enemy.
Character stats incoming. Everyone gets two items, one bonus, and five skill points assigned by yours truly.
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712bc8 No.9619
I should have mentioned this earilier: All characters are presumed to start play with the following: Backpack, Clothing, Rations, a few feet of rope, and an amount of gold approximated to your rank. Gold will not be counted with numbers as much as with quantifing terms such as None, Very low, Low, Medium, etc. Thank you.
>>9557
Skills: [Athletics I] [Investigation I] [Survival II] [Travel I]
Inventory:
Ancestral Axe (Your forefathers have handed down an axe through the generations. Its steel is strong and it keeps an edge well. Intricate runework runs the length of the handle)
Boots of the Traveler (Walking long distances is hard work, and it wears out the feet and the soles of your shoes. One day you came across a cobbler hawking his wares on a street corner. Your shoes were worn through and your toes peeked through the tips. You bought the nicest boots the cobbler had. They have never worn out over their long years of travel, and they seem to keep you going along the road for a longer period of time than other travelers.)
Bonus: Tashfati Udlag (You are a wanderer an a pilgrim. Your feet take you to faraway lands: Distant mountaintops, verdant dales, and dark forests. Due to your expertise in travelling, you get a +10 bonus to over land movement rolls.)
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712bc8 No.9623
>>9565
Skills: [Archery II] [Survival II] [Tracking I]
Inventory:
Amrunfir (When you were young, you carved this bow from the heartwood of a yew. With it, you have felled many beasts of the wild, feeding many mouths. Its arrows fly far and strike true.)
Odhel Parf (Long ago, you entered the lands of Eregion. In an ancient Noldor ruin, you found a book. You are not versed in the language of the Deep Elves, and do not understand the flowing script upon the pages, though it is written in the Tehtar that you are familiar with. For some reason, only your hands can open the book, and it snaps shut when anyone else peers at its pages.)
Bonus: Gódhel Melethril (The ways of the High Elves intrigue you, and you have come to understand much of their culture simply by walking in the abandoned ruins of their homes and flets. You receive a +12 bonus when attempting to learn something about the Noldor. [Doesn't apply to the book.])
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712bc8 No.9625
>>9572
Skills: [Animal Handling I] [Barter II] [Culinary Arts I] [Fighting I]
Inventory:
Old Sword (This old sword was surely once a gleaming sign of pride and a potent weapon in battle, but now it is rusted, its edge jagged and worn. However, the blade simply feels RIGHT in your hands)
Draft Horse (You own a draft horse, a trusty steed from your farming days. It's served you well, and is strong enough to carry you and a moderate load.
Bonus: Beastmaster (Cattle can be difficult creatures. They are stubbourn and sometimes deadly. After working with them for years, you have the patience it takes to calm down an excited animal. No horse you ride will get spooked and throw you. Even wild animals are more accepting of your presence than they would be otherwise.)
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712bc8 No.9651
>>9573
Skills: [Command II] [Fighting II] [Intimidate I]
Inventory:
The Helm of the Warlord (This helm is an old one to be sure, crafted of wrought iron and inscribed with tales of terrible deeds by the enemies of Men. Each owner adds his own history to the tale of the helm, and your addition has been so long, that you have hanged small bones from its sides, each one carrying the details of a brutal victory.)
The Skull of the King (With you, you carry the skull of your old master's enemy, Thorin II Oakenshield. After the battle which destroyed your master's warband and cost him his life, orc agents under your command raided the tomb of the legendary Dwarf, ransacking the place and escaping with the King's head. You have had it on your belt for as long as any in your clan can remember, save yourself. Though the skin is peeled away and all of the flesh is gone, the skull still affects those who see it, even if they know not where it came from. It speaks to them, saying: "Look upon me. This is the fate of the Free Peoples and all of their works."
Bonus: Massive Warchief (You lead a clan of Orcs and Uruks. Due to your massive size and supernaturally old age, you are feared and respected, with some in the clan whispering that you are more Olog-Hai than Uruk. Your current clan of 50 Orcs and 70 Uruks obey your will without question, for better or for worse.)
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712bc8 No.9688
>>9574
Skills: [Command I] [Fighting II] [Magic I] [Noble Interaction I]
Inventory:
The Traitor's Sword (Long ago, in the mists of history, during the reign of the mad king Ar-Pharazon. Forged for the king by the Dark Lord Sauron himself (for use in the planned conquering of Valinor), the blade found its way into your family's hands some few thousand years ago. The weapon is worn with age, but it still brings fear to the servants of Valinor. You, the most skilled swordsman of the family, have been entrusted with the weapon.)
The Masque of Marravar (Your family is old. This mask is just as old. Another heirloom of your ancestors, the Masque of Marravar is a relic of ancient times. Within its iron spikes, a shard of Ancalagon the Black's tooth lies. The masque radiates an aura of primal power and the promise of destruction.
Bonus: Slightly Magical (There's something strange about you. Nobody's really sure what it is, but you feel that it has something to do with your heritage. You have minor latent magical abilities. Right now you can only perform minor magic. You can move a small stone rather quickly, or a small sword rather slowly (Too slowly to injure anyone). There may be room to improve your skills. But only with good, fluffy posts.
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712bc8 No.9723
>>9575
Skills: [Archery I] [Barter I] [Fighting II] [Persuade I]
Inventory:
Glaive of Rhun (A short while back, this vicious polearm found its way into your possession. The shaft is of Alder heartwood, while the blade is a black metal with silver edges. It's well suited for stopping a charging knight, or dismounting a mounted opponent, as it has a sharp hook on the back.)
Mercenary's Lamellar (You commissioned this suit of armour after you received your first payment for a job well done. The plates are made of steel, and the whole thing is fairly simple. However, it is designed to provide the wearer extreme protection from slashing, arrows, and blunt force trauma, though it would not hold up against the lance of a knight.)
Bonus: Mercenary (Since you're a professional mercenary, you find it easier to find paying military jobs. +10 when looking for a job involving strength of arms. But not literally strength of arms, though. Like, bodyguarding and stuff. You know what I mean.)
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712bc8 No.9724
>>9577
Skills: [Barter I] [Business II] [Diplomacy II]
Inventory:
The Seal of the Prince (As the brother of the king, and son of Eldarion I, you are an extremely powerful man. Barring the king, you are arguably the most powerful man in Gondor. You wear a signet ring on your finger. Anyone not familiar with you will almost certainly recognize the Royal Seal and give you the respect that is due.)
The Elfstone (This pendant was given by Orome, the Huntsman of the Valar to Galadriel, and from her to Arwen Undomiel, and from her to Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, High King of the Reunited Kingdom. From his hands, it passed to those of his son, and then into yours. It is a symbol of hope, and in uncertain times, it will bring hope to the hearts of men, and kindle fire in their souls.)
Bonus: Merchant Prince (You are the definition of a merchant prince, and are able to ensure maximum efficiency and productivity from your businesses. Any rolls made to restore productivity to an enterprise, or to improve productivity get +15)
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712bc8 No.9725
The game proper begins now. You may all post your actions after this post.
>>9557 starts in Moria, beneath the Misty Mountains. It is a prosperous Dwarven city, retaken from the Goblins of that place.
>>9565 begins in Thranduil's Hall in Mirkwood. Now that the Dark Lord Sauron has departed this world entirely, Mirkwood has regained its former beauty, with the deadly spiders and fell creatures of Dol Guldur destroyed or expelled.
>>9572 begins in the town of Pitkaranta in the far Northern wastes of Forochel. The town is fairly small, the only major buildings being an inn, a general store, and a town hall.
>>9573 begins in the ruins of Angmar. One of the few places not touched by Man, the ancient fortress of the Witch King, Lord of the Nazgul, second in the hierarchy of the Enemy only to Sauron himself. In this dark place, you and your band hide.
>>9574 begins in Urlutsu Nurn, the capitol of the Easterlings in Mordor. Most of the Easterlings living in Urlutsu have become willing and normal citizens of the Reunited Kingdom.
>>9575 begins in Minas Tirith. He has no job yet.
>>9577 begins in Minas Tirith as well.
Let the Three Hundred and Twenty Eighth year of the Fifth Age of the Sun begin!
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712bc8 No.9727
>>9552
One little correction. It is Fifth Age 328. If it were TA 328, King Ostoher would be just about to rebuild Minas Tirith after the damage done to it by Sauron's forces.
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712bc8 No.9732
 | Rolled 15, 80 = 95 (2d100) |
>>9723
>Name: Khamûl son of Khamûl
>Race: Human: Easterling:Variag
>Age: 28
>Gender: Male
Skills: [Archery I] [Barter I] [Fighting II] [Persuade I]
Inventory:
Glaive of Rhun
Mercenary's Lamellar
Bonus: Mercenary
>>9725
Dunno how many actions or what to roll so gonna guess two and d100 lol
1. Search for a job of course. It's important to always have work and
Khamûl is no layabout. Let's see who is hiring and for what.
2. When there is extra time I will practice my Archery. Need to work in getting it up some more. Merc that can't shoot is a soon to be dead Merc.
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712bc8 No.9733
>>9725
Name: Prince Emanssor
Race: Dúnedain Human
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Fluff: A younger brother of Aranyond I, and son of High King Eldarion I, Gods rest his soul, Emanssor shares the bloodline of his forefather, that of the High King Elves, and of the Dúnedain and of Numenor. His father, like his great Grandfather Aragorn ii Elessar, continued the tradition, having courted and married elven royalty as his Queen, thus continuing the trend in the bloodlines of the Kings of Gondor, blessing them with long life over lesser men.
From a young age he trained with his brother, and while the the eldest son groomed himself to be a King, Emanssor sought a niche of his own. Gifted the life of a royal and education, but freed of the great responsibility of being heir, he took his education and training in a more special direction. Aranyond learned politics on how to speak as King, Emanssor learned how to speak as himself. Aranyond learned how to manage the Kingdom from above, Emanssor focused on managing it from the inside. When he was 16 his father gave him the task to manage a small market district in disrepair, by the third month he had increased its efficiency and standard of living two-fold, and by the first year his influence had already spread his influence across 7 more city districts, and fostering a close relationship with Doromir II, the aged Steward of Gondor, and grandchild of Elboron son of Boromir. His experience here, imbibing on the trade of the world that flowed into Minas Tirith helped teach him much about the outside world, in particular the Dwarves whom crafted items of great value. Together with the house of the Stewards, they made the jewel of Gondor shine.
Management, not Rule, was his lot in life, and he took it with pride, fostering and overseeing the growth of the Capital.
But as time grew on, even while the Kingdom basked in a golden age of peace, more and more he felt concerned, uneased.
The lessons he had learned when reading the history books, and when studying and seeing over the whims of the market, have all pointed to this one fact:
Every moment of peace and growth will always be proceeded by a period of war and loss. Time and again, this fact has resounded throughout history, for every hill a vale, for every rise a fall.
War will come to Gondor, and perhaps sooner than anyone realized. And all Gondor was content to do was sit and bask in the sun even as the stormclouds would gather.
But his skills had also taught him this much, capitalizing rapid growth was the key to surviving and thriving through any ecomic down-turn. When times were good you acted, not rested, you used the opportunity. You gathered the harvest for the winter months.
Emanssor took up this task, just as his brother became King he warned him of his concerns, and pledged that he would go forth and strengthen the Kingdom of Gondor by whatever means necesssary
Do not fill out the following:
Skills: [Barter I] [Business II] [Diplomacy II]
Inventory:
-The Seal of the Prince (As the brother of the king, and son of Eldarion I, you are an extremely powerful man. Barring the king, you are arguably the most powerful man in Gondor. You wear a signet ring on your finger. Anyone not familiar with you will almost certainly recognize the Royal Seal and give you the respect that is due.)
-The Elfstone (This pendant was given by Orome, the Huntsman of the Valar to Galadriel, and from her to Arwen Undomiel, and from her to Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, High King of the Reunited Kingdom. From his hands, it passed to those of his son, and then into yours. It is a symbol of hope, and in uncertain times, it will bring hope to the hearts of men, and kindle fire in their souls.)
Bonus: Merchant Prince (You are the definition of a merchant prince, and are able to ensure maximum efficiency and productivity from your businesses. Any rolls made to restore productivity to an enterprise, or to improve productivity get +15)
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712bc8 No.9734
| Rolled 30, 16 = 46 (2d100) |
>>9733
I prepare myself to embark upon a long journey into the realms of Gondor. . .even beyond to Rohan, and the Misty Mountains themselves.
1. To do this, I will require a suitable escort of men I can rely on for when my journey begins.
Bodyguards have always been useful, be it to protect myself or even give me information.
I will need to hire a Sizeable escort consisting of both elite Gondorian Royal Guards, and several other suitable individuals.
I've always liked to surround myself with diversity, it helps me in ensuring I have a footing in anywhere I go to. I would also seek to hire a Dwarf knowledgeable of the sons of Durin, an Elves of both Mirkwood and of Lothlorien, individuals with knowledge of Rhovanion an Eriador perhaps Rangers, and of course, an Easterling or Haradrim of the south.
Quite the odd party, I know, but then was not the quest to defeat the Dark lord composed of some unlikely individuals as well? At least in my case, I have coin that binds them.
I'll need to hire them and house them in an inn or barracks until I am prepared to venture off into the world.
2. After hiring the escort, I must ensure my absence from the Capital is planned well ahead of time, such that my King and brother knows of my mission and my whereabouts.
Tis a pity being gone I won't be able to attend those fanciful balls and parties that ever so please the nobility, but did not Aragorn II spend much of his life a Ranger, serving Gondor not Minas tirith but throughout all its realms?
I will arrange that my absence is planned and not direly missed.
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712bc8 No.9741
| Rolled 11, 32 = 43 (2d100) |
>>9623
Name: Nimen Ador-penn
Race: Elf (Avari)
Age: 94
Gender: Male
Fluff: It is said that the fate of elves is twofold - to pass back into the West, and live among the Valar in the Undying Lands, or to remain, and slowly fade until they are less than spirits. The Avari do not have this choice. They were the Unwilling, who did not follow Orome into Valinor when the world was young. And for that they have paid, consigned to the deep forests and untouched places of the world, ignored by all but the earliest Men.
Nimen relives this truth daily, one so connected to the earth but forever separate from its inhabitants. Hunting, tracking, knowing the land better than any short-lived race could. He comes from the Penni tribe of Avari in the far east, hence his surname, but has long wished to experience the world of the Eldarin, their culture, their ways. Sadly, he was born too late to encounter them at their height. But Nimen still holds out hope, that if he can learn from the High Elves, he can bring some of that greatness and renown back to his own people.
Skills: [Archery II] [Survival II] [Tracking I]
Inventory:
Amrunfir (When you were young, you carved this bow from the heartwood of a yew. With it, you have felled many beasts of the wild, feeding many mouths. Its arrows fly far and strike true.)
Odhel Parf (Long ago, you entered the lands of Eregion. In an ancient Noldor ruin, you found a book. You are not versed in the language of the Deep Elves, and do not understand the flowing script upon the pages, though it is written in the Tehtar that you are familiar with. For some reason, only your hands can open the book, and it snaps shut when anyone else peers at its pages.)
Bonus: Gódhel Melethril (The ways of the High Elves intrigue you, and you have come to understand much of their culture simply by walking in the abandoned ruins of their homes and flets. You receive a +12 bonus when attempting to learn something about the Noldor. [Doesn't apply to the book.])
1/2 - A chance at last to uncover the truths of the Noldor! I should like to leave for the Noldorin lands of Lorien soon enough, but while I am here I must find out what secrets this book hides. The Odhel Parf. I am sadly ignorant to its tongue, but surely someone in this palatial hall must be able to help!
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712bc8 No.9742
| Rolled 68, 26 = 94 (2d100) |
>>9725
Name: Urcaugh
Race: Uruk-Hai
Age: 421
Gender: Male
Fluff: Urcaugh, son of Acuzel, Warchief of the Clan Sraez. As much one can be a Warchief of the motley remnants of what was once the great and fearsome army of the Black Orcs, their forges burnt and fortresses razed by the armies of man. A captain before the great defeat, Urcaugh has bided his time, his hand forced by the fires of men, who now are so bold as to step into Mordor itself. Soon, it will be time. Soon, the blade of Urcaugh will feel more than the occasional scout, and the new armies will march once more. Soon, Warchief Urcaugh will make men tremble with fear at his name as their cities burn and their fortresses crumble. Soon, this world will remember the Uruk-Hai are far from dead.
Physically, he is a massive orc, standing at 8' with an intimidating and heavily muscled physique from his age, the oldest Uruk-Hai alive by a mile, and possibly the oldest one to ever live. A follower of Azog the Defiler during his time walking Middle-Earth, Urcaugh's skin is white with magic taint, eyes a sickly blue in imitation of his former leader. He still hopes and wishes for the return of Sauron, to lead the Uruk-Hai to greatness once more - but in the stead of the strongest of the strongest, Urcaugh himself will lead the Uruk-Hai to trample men into the dust.
Skills: [Command II] [Fighting II] [Intimidate I]
Inventory:
The Helm of the Warlord (This helm is an old one to be sure, crafted of wrought iron and inscribed with tales of terrible deeds by the enemies of Men. Each owner adds his own history to the tale of the helm, and your addition has been so long, that you have hanged small bones from its sides, each one carrying the details of a brutal victory.)
The Skull of the King (With you, you carry the skull of your old master's enemy, Thorin II Oakenshield. After the battle which destroyed your master's warband and cost him his life, orc agents under your command raided the tomb of the legendary Dwarf, ransacking the place and escaping with the King's head. You have had it on your belt for as long as any in your clan can remember, save yourself. Though the skin is peeled away and all of the flesh is gone, the skull still affects those who see it, even if they know not where it came from. It speaks to them, saying: "Look upon me. This is the fate of the Free Peoples and all of their works."
Bonus: Massive Warchief (You lead a clan of Orcs and Uruks. Due to your massive size and supernaturally old age, you are feared and respected, with some in the clan whispering that you are more Olog-Hai than Uruk. Your current clan obey your will without question, for better or for worse.)
Followers - Clan Sraez [50 Orcs, 70 Uruk-Hai]
1: Long enough time has passed, and the lands of men grow complacent and fat, so my precious few strings of information tell me. I have rested long enough, nurturing strength and gathering information, taking so long to establish a mere foothold in these lands of Angmar, where no Elf dares tread, no Man conquer, no Dwarf to dig. I train my own well enough, but they are stupid and disorganized, and not nearly ruthless enough. I will fix it, in time. The time for silence is over, now. Though we will not be displaying our location to the prying eyes of man, the fires and steel of Angmar will rest silent no more. Light the flames and find me the hammers of old. The Fortress of Angmar will be the breeding grounds for an army. [Begin repairing and rebuilding Angmar, and crafting weapons and armor in the fashion of the grunts of Sauron, all those years ago.]
2. I will need far more than this. Clan Sraez has grown from a few huddled orcs to a true clan under my guidance, but a Warchief does not band over hundreds. He bands over thousands. I will need many more. Stragglers and groups are scattered leaderless throughout the crevices and crooks of these burnt lands, in places I have not yet dared to reach out to. No more. Every creature that once served under Sauron shall hear the name Urcaugh the Ancient, and know it will be I to lead them to glory once again, paved with the skulls of Dwarves and Elves. A future Uruk born a year is not acceptable. I will have an army at my heels in two, with great and terrifying creatures shuddering the very ground behind it's wake. All those to serve the great master in the past will be brought under my fist now, instead. I will do what even he could not. I will end the Age of Man.
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712bc8 No.9745
| Rolled 2, 81 = 83 (2d100) |
>>9725
Name: Tabur the Inquisitive
Race: Dwarf
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Fluff: Known for putting his nose where it doesn't belong Tabur is the kind of dwarf to go where he shouldn't go, dig where he shouldn't dig and ask what's best left unasked. As such he is always on the move, either looking for the next interesting thing, or running away from an angry mob. But he wouldn't have it any other way, the world if filled with wonders and lost treasures to be found, and he is out to find them all.
Skills: [Athletics I] [Investigation I] [Survival II] [Travel I]
Inventory:
Ancestral Axe
Boots of the Traveler
Bonus: Tashfati Udlag
Ah yes, Khazad-dûm, home of the dwarves, but Tabur cannot stay at home forever, it's almost time to prepare for another journey. But first there are things that need to be taken care of, the foremost being funds. By working as a miner he was sure he could earn enough to get him started, but there were other reasons for looking for such a job. With the ancient history of the city he was sure that there should be tunnels that lay forgotten since ages past, and he intended to find one.
1) Get a part time job in the mines (how much funds did Tabur start with? Low? Medium?)
2) Time to dig deep, and snoop around for a forgotten tunnel or two
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712bc8 No.9754
>>9574
>>9688
>>9725
>Name:
Axantur Marravar
>Race:
Black Numenorean
>Age:
23
>Gender:
Male
>Location:
Urlutsu Nurn
>Wealth:
???
>Fluff:
Ambitious, scheming and violent, this Black Numenorean yearns to attain the wealth and power his family once knew as corsair lords.
>Skills:
[Command I] [Fighting II] [Magic I] [Noble Interaction I]
>Inventory:
[The Traitor's Sword] - Long ago, during the reign of the mad king Ar-Pharazon, this blade was forged for the king by the Dark Lord Sauron for use in the planned conquest of Valinor. The blade found its way into your family's hands some few thousand years ago. Though worn with age, it still inspires fear in the cravens of the West. As the most skilled swordsman of the family, you have been entrusted with the weapon.
[The Masque of Marravar] - Your family is old. This mask is just as old. Another heirloom of your ancestors, the Masque of Marravar is a relic of ancient times. Within its iron spikes, a shard of Ancalagon the Black's tooth lies. The masque radiates an aura of primal power and the promise of destruction.
>Bonus:
[Slightly Magical] - There's something strange about you. Nobody's really sure what it is, but you feel that it has something to do with your heritage. You have minor latent magical abilities. Right now you can only perform minor magic. You can move a small stone rather quickly, or a small sword rather slowly (Too slowly to injure anyone). There may be room to improve your skills.
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712bc8 No.9755
| Rolled 22 (1d100) |
>>9754
1. At last I am judged the greatest of all Marravar swordsmen. I never doubted it for a moment, as when I truly concentrate on a combat, my blows have always been guided by some intangible force, some divine will making itself known through my strikes - a mysterious and comforting energy supplementing my own muscle and sinew, guiding my blade to the weakest points in my enemy's guard, helping me to strike just a little harder than mortal men. While it's barely noticable, it grants me an edge, and so my mastery is evident to any who pay the slightest ounce of attention.
While proof of my greatness - My Destiny - it's also bound to attract the attention of jealous eyes, petty people who i've bested over the years, envious souls who view my talents as a threat, and who knows what else? I will require loyal and slavish servants, inspired by faith and fear to watch my back and cater to my needs. But before that, I will require that simplest of commodities, that basest of metals: Gold. Even those wretches most desperate for validation and a place in the world will need feeding - and stronger servants will need payment, lest they seek employment elsewhere.
But how to go about aquiring wealth, when the majority of my house's material goods were stolen decades ago? There's precious little left to invest in merchant ventures along the lake and rivers of Nurn, so for now, I will have to rely on my own talents.
Perhaps I can take part in the showy prizefighting common to the Capital. While blood sports may be looked upon unfavourably by the limp-wristed weaklings in the west, the martial customs of the men of the south and east are not so easily brushed aside. Great warriors still compete for gold and glory, and I would count myself among their number, honing my skills of bloodshed, guided as I am by my Destiny. I will acquire the wealth I need to rebuild my house.
>Compete in prizefights, for gold and practice
+[Fighting II] +[Magic I]
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712bc8 No.9756
| Rolled 45 (1d100) |
>>9755
2. The nobles of this place are pathetic. I've seen them, enjoying the scraps that fall from the high tables of the so-called "Reunited Kingdom," the enduring reward earned by their ancestors when they betrayed their own people and swore service to a pitiful Western King.
While I know my courtly graces, and my mere presence is almost preturnaturally commanding, I would not treat with these scum had I the choice. But necessity breeds strange bedfellows, and it's their wealth and power I will need to establish myself as a true presence in Nurn. It's their influence I covet, and their money I require: but the idea of dealing with the lapdogs of the west makes the bile rise in my throat.
Even so, I must maintain civility. I hold true to my vow that no scheme, no strategy is too repulsive to consider in my rise to greatness. My preferred targets ought to be the old and infirm or the young and naive. These people, uncertain of themselves, are the most likely to want to delegate such a task - or be taken up by the romance of a once-noble captain swearing to do their bidding. If a wealthy heiress could be seduced to my cause, there is no reason not to attempt it - but any noble sponsor ought to do.
At any rate: If I can secure an audience with some of the richer families, I might be able to convince them to invest in a mercantile venture with me as its captain. The ancient history of my house, the blood of Numenor pumping through my veins, there can be no better prospect than I to lead a ship across the lake of Nurn to bring back luxuries from the far east. No better, more commanding presence to ensure that the men harbour no thought of betrayal or mutiny. And should they place their trust in me, we will all reap the rewards.
>Seek noble sponsorship
+[Command I] +[Magic I] +[Noble Interaction I]
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712bc8 No.9767
>>9732
Minas Tirith is a bustling, prosperous city. And your experience says that such a city has a few problems. People need problems fixed. You can fix problems. Unfortunately, you can't find anyone who needs any work done. You are, however, able to find a local militia training ground. The officer in charge allows you to hone your skills at the range.
>[Archery II] 1/5
>>9733
You may have coin, but there are very few mercenaries that you were able to find in a quick sweep of the city. While working on the issue, you heard tell of an Easterling whose prowess in combat is considerable. There are some Royal Guards sworn to protect you now and for all time, but you are unable to find additional forces or the specialists that you need. On your way to the Citadel, a messenger intercepted you. Your guards stopped him, but you knew him well. He informed you of a n urgent problem with one of your businesses. You fixed it, but were unable to make it to the Citadel.
>>9741
The halls of King Doltaur (Son of Legolas, Son of Thranduil, Son of Oropher, who was Lord of all Greenwood), are a great system of caves in the north of Greenwood. Many reside therein, but none are versed in Quenya. It has been too long since the Deep Elves dwelled in Middle Earth, and the language has been lost to the elves of Greenwood. Imladris, beyond Hithaeglir, may be your only hope, for most of the elves yet living in Middle-Earth are Sindar, and know not the High Tongue.
>>9742
Your band surveys the damage to Angmar. The battle of Fornost did damage to the lands surrounding the great keep, but did not touch the castle itself. The citadel, Zau-Kala, was left to withstand the ravages of time, and without the dark sorcery of its masters holding it together, it has all but crumbled, with collapsed walls and roofs being commonplace. Some hallways are held together by little more than rotted beams which will surely give way, should any more pressure be placed upon them. You survey this environment and, with a tactical eye, put your servants to work fixing the most immediate damage. Some of your men are sent into the Uruk-Dropi, the orc-caves that dot the land. All groups return, but bring news that the orcs of the caves are unwilling to follow you. They know not your name or your fell deeds.
>That update
I'm impressed. Very nice writing. 9/10
>>9745
(Low gold.)
You visit the foreman of one of the mines. He says that he has enough Dwarves working for him. You visit the next and he says the same thing. And the next one, and the next one, and the next one. You're just about ready to give up, but you decide to try one more mine. The Dwarves here are not glamorous miners, they mine liwîz, the burning black rock. Coal to men. Dwarves find the mining of coal degrading, but you need a job, and agree to work for the dwarf. On your first day, you are given a pickaxe and are told to mine the coal-face. After several hours of mining, you've made some headway, and your carter is working hard, taking the coal that you've found back to the city. Your pick hits the rock for the millionth time today, but this time, you strike through the rock face. A breath of hot air hits your face. The cave beyond is deep and dark, but that is how Dwarves like their caves. You clear out an entrance and finish as your carter, Othic, returns for the next load. You beckon him near, and you both peek through the portal. Both of you step into the cave and look around for a bit. The walls are damp and the cave is warm. After you both explore for a bit, Othic tells you that he will go get the foreman, who would like to see this. Before he reaches the cave's mouth, however, you hear a faint rumbling, like the deep moan of a creature of the dark. You know what it is. The sound that you hear is the sound that accompanies a cave in. Before you can give a word of warning, the rock face collapses, and Othic is crushed under a ton of rock and coal. The light from your shaft is gone, and your pick is buried with your carter.
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712bc8 No.9768
>>9767
>>9754
>>9755
>>9756
>Picture related
The arena of Urlutsu is not difficult to find, being a major architectural piece and a huge part of the city's culture. When you show up at the main offices of the place and apply for a spot in the matches, the clerk there looks you over and shrugs.
"It's your funeral."
After a bit of paperwork, he sends you down a set of stairs, underneath the arena. A large Harad man stands in the middle of the room, watching some of the men training. When he sees you enter, he looks you up and down.
"Is this what Shinoel is sending me now? Green boys who think they can fight? How about you go up against Ariom here? Show me you've got what it takes. If you don't, you can clean the latrines. There's always a job for eager workers."
Just before you smite the degenerate for his impudence, a boulder of a man steps out from behind a training dummy. His arms look like the columns of your old family palace and are probably almost as solid. The small building speaks:
"I see your toothpick, little man. Feel free to use it if you think it will make a difference."
Twelve seconds later, your sword is lodged in the man's neck. You yourself took no damage in the fight. The Harad man looks pleased, disappointed and shocked. A strange combination on any face.
"You killed him! Dammit! Ariom was our best prospect. He wasn't even a fighter yet, but he had potential. He was an investment, and I want you to pay it back in full. You're hired, but we get three quarters of any winnings. That's a quarter more than usual. Once you pay back your damages, you can earn fifty percent like everyone else." The fights take place every day but Monday and Thursday. Seeing as it's a Monday, you set out to find sponsorship from the nobles of the land. You know where to start. The city is built on a hill, and the wealthiest live in a walled portion of the city, just below the mayoral mansion. You seek out the largest house and ring the bell that hangs outside. A manservant answers. Soon, you have met the owners of this palatial house. The patriarch of the family is a shrewd businessman who made his fortune off of investments in mining interests in the Ephel Duath. He has a wife, a son who is off adventuring and touring the world, and three daughters, aged 17, 20, and 26. The man finds you to be a reasonable enough sort, or so you think. You believe you've made headway in your quest to find a sponsor.
>Sponsorship 1/6
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712bc8 No.9795
>>9768
>Name:
Axantur Marravar
>Race:
Black Numenorean
>Age:
23
>Gender:
Male
>Location:
Urlutsu Nurn
>Wealth:
???
>Fluff:
Ambitious, scheming and violent, this Black Numenorean yearns to attain the wealth and power his family once knew as corsair lords.
>Skills:
[Command I] [Fighting II] [Magic I] [Noble Interaction I]
>Inventory:
[The Traitor's Sword] - Long ago, during the reign of the mad king Ar-Pharazon, this blade was forged for the king by the Dark Lord Sauron for use in the planned conquest of Valinor. The blade found its way into your family's hands some few thousand years ago. Though worn with age, it still inspires fear in the cravens of the West. As the most skilled swordsman of the family, you have been entrusted with the weapon.
[The Masque of Marravar] - Your family is old. This mask is just as old. Another heirloom of your ancestors, the Masque of Marravar is a relic of ancient times. Within its iron spikes, a shard of Ancalagon the Black's tooth lies. The masque radiates an aura of primal power and the promise of destruction.
>Bonus:
[Slightly Magical] - There's something strange about you. Nobody's really sure what it is, but you feel that it has something to do with your heritage. You have minor latent magical abilities. Right now you can only perform minor magic. You can move a small stone rather quickly, or a small sword rather slowly (Too slowly to injure anyone). There may be room to improve your skills.
>Sponsorship 1/6
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712bc8 No.9796
| Rolled 6 (1d100) |
>>9795
It's all I can do to keep from laughing in the face of my new "Employer." His presumption and gall, and nothing less, led directly to the death of his oh-so-precious investment fighter. The blood of Marravar will not be sullied by menial work in the latrines, and any soul that seeks to force this scion of Numenor to such a task ought to consider their prospects carefully. The fighter, as a mere minion, deserved a swift, clean death - but his master…
Well. For now, I need this man - but I will remember his face. I'll remember his name. Oh, yes.
Their demand of three coins of every four I earn is, of course, ludicrous - but if they seek to retain me past the date of my presumed debt, they will be forced to offer me a better deal. Until that day, I can use their training facilities as I see fit. I will master my form before my first true combat. I will spar with training blades against the other arena hopefuls, I will heed the call of my Destiny, and I will find myself in the sandy arena in shortest order, ready to fight - ready to spill my first opponent's blood.
But if I won't be making much money from my efforts, I should seek to win other prizes. A combatant that displays their skills for the world to see, who plays the crowd, who gives them the blood and sport they want to see… those are the souls the mobs exalts. Those are the fighters that hoard fame, who become renowned, who become desirable to patrons who offer much more than one silver piece of every four.
And so, I will favour style where I can. Scoring a wound upon my enemy early on will lead to triumph from attrition, where their slowing, injured movements can be made a mockery. Scornful words and energetic dodges ought to whip them and the crowd into a frenzy - and flourishes with every opportunistic strike will sate their bloodlust.
How can I fail? I will be the best. I will be celebrated as I ought to be.
>Fight for Glory and Experience in the Arena
+[Fighting II] +[Magic I]
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712bc8 No.9797
| Rolled 70 (1d100) |
>>9796
It feels good to have already treated with a member of the aristocracy, for despite their snivelling, grovelling ancestry, their good graces are vital to my plans.
That they made their fortune from the southern mountain ranges is ideal. They will have the money to spare on a mission into the east, and not necessarily have experience with traversing the great lake to trade for cloths, spices, exotic dyes and other curios from where Mordor meets the far east - Rhun, Khand and even further afield.
I can offer to lead such an expedition. As with any savvy merchant, I have no doubt that they will need convincing to part with their wealth, even to accumulate more, and this is where their family may be useful.
If I visit often to negotiate, I may, over the course of days or weeks, be presented with the opportunity to take stock of his wife and daughters. With the heir to the house absent on some fool crusade, the mother may be won over by false assurances that their son will be safe. If the indolent lethargy of the Reunited Kingdom is good for anything, it's that its inhabitants have little to fear from brigands while the King's precious 'peace' is maintained.
The daughters, meanwhile, may require more delicate handling. They may think their brother's escapades are daring and exciting - perhaps even longing to follow in his heroic footsteps, or they may think him irresponsible for shirking his duty to his house. Learning how they feel will colour our interactions.
If they subscribe to the romanticism of an adventuring noble, I can play up that angle in the hope that I inspire trust. If they scorn his reckless choices, I can reaffirm their beliefs that a man's duty is to his family. And if in their eyes is a spark of ambition and wanderlust, I might hint that if I were to win their father's favour, then they might find a way to accompany the voyage.
But vital above all, the man's family must think me upstanding, so that they can help convince him to trust in my talents.
>Work to gain Noble Sponsorship (1/6)
+[Command I] +[Magic I] +[Noble Interaction I]
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712bc8 No.9798
>>9794
Reposting
Dice roll Rolled 3, 57 = 60 (2d100)
>>9767
>Name: Khamûl son of Khamûl
>Race: Human: Easterling:Variag
>Age: 28
>Gender: Male
Skills: [Archery I] [Barter I] [Fighting II] [Persuade I]
Inventory:
Glaive of Rhun
Mercenary's Lamellar
Bonus: Mercenary
1.2.
I can't believe no one in this damned city is looking for someone of my caliber to solve their petty little westerner problems. Maybe I went wrong in searching out a job myself. People who need someone like me will be searching themselves not waiting to be found. I should focus on my training and so let word get out of my presence. Someone who needs me will find me soon enough. Worst case scenario they don't and I can search more later.
>>[Archery II] 1/5
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712bc8 No.9800
>>9767
The Prince continued to scour the barracks and halls and inns of Minas Tirith in an effort to find a diverse range of talents and skills, when he came upon a saracen practicing upon the bow within one of the archery ranges.
The noble bid his elite guards to stand by, as he approached and waited for him to loose his last arrow. He spoke the greeting in the tongue of the Harad.
"Azelamu-eleikhum.
From your markings and your armor, you are a man of the east. Khand, if I may guess.
And you shoot well. I am looking for men of your talent and your background, if your sword is for sale."
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712bc8 No.9803
>>9800
>Azelamu-eleikhum
Lol. I always pictured easterlings more as Slavic or north Asian barbarians not so much Arabs . the variag in particular were supposed to be either hunnic or varangian according to wiki. Haradrim would be more Arab wouldn't it?
Either way I'll go along with it.
________
"You seem to be fairly knowledgeable about my appearance. But tell me who are you? A regular noble should have no need of mercenaries after all. Nevermind it doesn't matter. Yes for the right price my sword is for sale so what are you offering and what's the gist of the job…….my lord."
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712bc8 No.9804
>>9803
>Hmm, yeah, now that you mention it that would be correct
——–
"Well, you may or may not be happy to know I am not a regular Noble.
I am Prince Emanssor, Second son of High King Eldarion the first of his name, Gods rest his soul, and brother to High King Aranyond first of his name.
(Emanssor took it upon himself a special pride to be able to speak such lengthy titles in other languages).
You will be working for a Prince, and I'll be sure you're paid by a Prince's pocket.
As for the terms of your employment, beyond your sword arm, and I hope, your bow hand and the skills thereof which would normally be sought, I am assembling a party of various individuals from the different realms beyond Gondor. Men of the West and East, North and South.
To have someone from as far off as Khand would be tangent to my ability to ensure Gondor has a good foothold in that realm, and it's neighbors. Alas, I do not see us heading to Khand anytime soon, but if I where to need someone familiar with the Easterlings and their ways, I would be more than happy to rely on you, and just as happy to pay you for it."
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712bc8 No.9805
>>9767
Name: Prince Emanssor
Race: Dúnedain Human
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Fluff: A younger brother of Aranyond I, and son of High King Eldarion I, Gods rest his soul, Emanssor shares the bloodline of his forefather, that of the High King Elves, and of the Dúnedain and of Numenor. His father, like his great Grandfather Aragorn ii Elessar, continued the tradition, having courted and married elven royalty as his Queen, thus continuing the trend in the bloodlines of the Kings of Gondor, blessing them with long life over lesser men.
From a young age he trained with his brother, and while the the eldest son groomed himself to be a King, Emanssor sought a niche of his own. Gifted the life of a royal and education, but freed of the great responsibility of being heir, he took his education and training in a more special direction. Aranyond learned politics on how to speak as King, Emanssor learned how to speak as himself. Aranyond learned how to manage the Kingdom from above, Emanssor focused on managing it from the inside. When he was 16 his father gave him the task to manage a small market district in disrepair, by the third month he had increased its efficiency and standard of living two-fold, and by the first year his influence had already spread his influence across 7 more city districts, and fostering a close relationship with Doromir II, the aged Steward of Gondor, and grandchild of Elboron son of Boromir. His experience here, imbibing on the trade of the world that flowed into Minas Tirith helped teach him much about the outside world, in particular the Dwarves whom crafted items of great value. Together with the house of the Stewards, they made the jewel of Gondor shine.
Management, not Rule, was his lot in life, and he took it with pride, fostering and overseeing the growth of the Capital.
But as time grew on, even while the Kingdom basked in a golden age of peace, more and more he felt concerned, uneased.
The lessons he had learned when reading the history books, and when studying and seeing over the whims of the market, have all pointed to this one fact:
Every moment of peace and growth will always be proceeded by a period of war and loss. Time and again, this fact has resounded throughout history, for every hill a vale, for every rise a fall.
War will come to Gondor, and perhaps sooner than anyone realized. And all Gondor was content to do was sit and bask in the sun even as the stormclouds would gather.
But his skills had also taught him this much, capitalizing rapid growth was the key to surviving and thriving through any ecomic down-turn. When times were good you acted, not rested, you used the opportunity. You gathered the harvest for the winter months.
Emanssor took up this task, just as his brother became King he warned him of his concerns, and pledged that he would go forth and strengthen the Kingdom of Gondor by whatever means necesssary
Do not fill out the following:
Skills: [Barter I] [Business II] [Diplomacy II]
Inventory:
-The Seal of the Prince (As the brother of the king, and son of Eldarion I, you are an extremely powerful man. Barring the king, you are arguably the most powerful man in Gondor. You wear a signet ring on your finger. Anyone not familiar with you will almost certainly recognize the Royal Seal and give you the respect that is due.)
-The Elfstone (This pendant was given by Orome, the Huntsman of the Valar to Galadriel, and from her to Arwen Undomiel, and from her to Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, High King of the Reunited Kingdom. From his hands, it passed to those of his son, and then into yours. It is a symbol of hope, and in uncertain times, it will bring hope to the hearts of men, and kindle fire in their souls.)
Bonus: Merchant Prince (You are the definition of a merchant prince, and are able to ensure maximum efficiency and productivity from your businesses. Any rolls made to restore productivity to an enterprise, or to improve productivity get +15)
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712bc8 No.9806
| Rolled 59, 72 = 131 (2d100) |
>>9805
>>9767
>Do I need to make an action to pay a PC Mercenary? Or can I just make a fluff notification to the Gondor coffers to put him on payroll with the rest of my guards?
1. Hmm, this business of mine. And how to manage it while so far away.
The fact that this problem appeared now is both a blessing, and a curse, for it reminds me my creation relies on its master all far too much.
It needs a manager. Perhaps I'll be hard pressed to find one of my abilities, but even an average manager will suffice so long as he can just as much water the vine to keep it from dying.
The son of the Aged steward is a young man of age and some skill. Perhaps getting a task from the Prince himself, as my father the King gave me, to manage a business might do him some good and gain him prestige.
I will be sure he keeps in contact with me via letter as far as possible
>Find a suitable business manager while I am away
2. Now, onto the Citadel, and my word to my King and brother. A noble, much less a Prince, can't but simply up and walk away there are responsibilities and duties which must be ensured before I can begin my journey. But I'll need to make sure I can leave this city with a clear conscience and thought, and head on out for the good of the realm.
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712bc8 No.9810
>>9806
>Do I need to make an action to pay a PC Mercenary? Or can I just make a fluff notification to the Gondor coffers to put him on payroll with the rest of my guards?
You're the fucking prince of Gondor. Your current guards don't need to be paid shit, nor will they leave. Others may need to be paid, but your charge will be significantly reduced. Since you and Khamul are PCs, you can treat it as any other team-up and fluff the transaction. No need to take an action.
>>9803
All of these are rough approximations. Some correlate more closely to their real-life counterparts than others. For example, Far Harad is quite clearly Africa, but Khand is less clear,)
>Middle Earth: Europe
>Near Harad: Middle East
>Far Harad: Darkest Africa
>Khand: An odd one. Khand was based off of several locations, the main inspirations being the Byzantine Empire, the Slavic countries, Greece, and India (It laid East of Near Harad). The Variag who live there were inspired by the Varamgoa guard of the Byzantine Emperor, who were Norse in origin. The Variags themselves may have been mercenaries, rather than actual inhabitants of Khand. It's possible that there was some terrain in Khand that was similar to Mongolia and the rest of the Eurasian Steppe. More conjecture on my part is the possibility of a tense history with the rest of the Easterlings due to their close territorial proximity.
>Rhun: Another bizarre one. Rhun was described little. Perhaps it is as varied as Asia itself, encompassing many cultures like the Russians, Mongolians, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, etc. Or perhaps it is like Harad, grouped into two general regions: Near and Far. The Uttermost East was mentioned by Tolkien in passing in the Book of Lost Tales as a land with a "silent beach and dark, empty seas." Near Rhun would have been more like the Mongols and Indians than the Chinese or the Japanese, with many of their number riding horses or war-chariots, though many (if not most) went into battle on foot. Geologically, they would be in a position similar to that of Mongolia, being east of Rhovannion and the Sea of Rhun.
The above is my academic opinion, hastily reformatted after skimming some reference guides I made. Most of my concern is with what has been written, not conjecture. Thus, the two less clear areas are partially probed by myself.
Another note: Nurn, in Mordor's fertile Southeast, could be interpreted as many things, but I've chosen to give it a slightly Byzantine feel.
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712bc8 No.9811
>>9804
"A prince eh? Yes we have a deal prince of Gordon. I'll be on call and ready to travel whenever you need"
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712bc8 No.9812
>>9810
Reduced charge my ass. Dealing with a prince's security problems requires a lot of money. Plus a smart prince pays his mercs and guards well. Or another may buy them out.
Also the money part is important to me since a long term goal for me in game is to set up an all Easterling mercenary guild (kind of like a fighters guild just less focused on honor and more on getting money and fucking up anyone who attempts to breach a contract or betray hired mercs) in gondor. So need a way to track how much money I save up for it.
I justify this via fluff he wants money and power bad but doesn't particularly care about any cause or faction. Eg merc guild is perfect.
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712bc8 No.9818
| Rolled 98, 93 = 191 (2d100) |
>>9767
Name: Sergiy Grishko
Race: Human
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Fluff: Sergiy was a simple baker, harvesting wheat from his farms to make bread and sell it for his family. Eventually, he managed to gather enough money to buy a herd of cattle, and make a fence for the cows. He then sold beef to caravans, adventurers, military groups, and anybody traveling in his area. He was a popular source of food in his area, and managed to hoard together enough currency to buy himself some very basic training, a rusty sword, and something harder than ragged clothing. He handed over the business to the rest of his family, and set out in thirst of adventure, and glory.
Skills: [Animal Handling I] [Barter II] [Culinary Arts I] [Fighting I]
Inventory:
Old Sword (This old sword was surely once a gleaming sign of pride and a potent weapon in battle, but now it is rusted, its edge jagged and worn. However, the blade simply feels RIGHT in your hands)
Draft Horse (You own a draft horse, a trusty steed from your farming days. It's served you well, and is strong enough to carry you and a moderate load.
Bonus: Beastmaster (Cattle can be difficult creatures. They are stubbourn and sometimes deadly. After working with them for years, you have the patience it takes to calm down an excited animal. No horse you ride will get spooked and throw you. Even wild animals are more accepting of your presence than they would be otherwise.)
1: …So begins my journey, into this unknown world. I am perfectly ready, and now I must leave. I have stayed in this town long enough, and now I shall explore! (Leave the town and explore, possibly scavenge)
2: …But before I go, I shall find a few people, to join in on my adventurers. Guards, farmers, or any kind of people, willing to join me in my adventures.
sorry for late post
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712bc8 No.9819
| Rolled 100, 43 = 143 (2d100) |
>>9767
Name: Tabur the Inquisitive
Race: Dwarf
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Fluff: Known for putting his nose where it doesn't belong Tabur is the kind of dwarf to go where he shouldn't go, dig where he shouldn't dig and ask what's best left unasked. As such he is always on the move, either looking for the next interesting thing, or running away from an angry mob. But he wouldn't have it any other way, the world if filled with wonders and lost treasures to be found, and he is out to find them all.
Skills: [Athletics I] [Investigation I] [Survival II] [Travel I]
Inventory:
Ancestral Axe
Boots of the Traveler
Bonus: Tashfati Udlag
Trapped in a cave no one remembers exists with no tools worth mentioning to help him. Well, nothing to do but move forward and look for another exit.
1) These tunnels might very well hold the kind of treasure and lost inscriptions that Tabur loves finding. He scans the walls for sign of dwarven work as he travels.
2) While having no tools might make things interesting, having a rope certainly calms Tabur down. With the situation as it is, traveling upwards might be for the best, if opportunity presents itself. Lost treasures and mysteries stay lost when the explorer doesn't know his way back.
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712bc8 No.9820
>>9819
>Rolled 100,
Congratulations man.
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712bc8 No.9821
>>9819
Here's hoping one day we meet so you and I can go asploring for cool things, dwarven or otherwise.
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712bc8 No.9825
| Rolled 84, 67 = 151 (2d100) |
>>9767
Name: Nimen Ador-penn
Race: Elf (Avari)
Age: 94
Gender: Male
Fluff: It is said that the fate of elves is twofold - to pass back into the West, and live among the Valar in the Undying Lands, or to remain, and slowly fade until they are less than spirits. The Avari do not have this choice. They were the Unwilling, who did not follow Orome into Valinor when the world was young. And for that they have paid, consigned to the deep forests and untouched places of the world, ignored by all but the earliest Men.
Nimen relives this truth daily, one so connected to the earth but forever separate from its inhabitants. Hunting, tracking, knowing the land better than any short-lived race could. He comes from the Penni tribe of Avari in the far east, hence his surname, but has long wished to experience the world of the Eldarin, their culture, their ways. Sadly, he was born too late to encounter them at their height. But Nimen still holds out hope, that if he can learn from the High Elves, he can bring some of that greatness and renown back to his own people.
Skills: [Archery II] [Survival II] [Tracking I]
Inventory:
Amrunfir (When you were young, you carved this bow from the heartwood of a yew. With it, you have felled many beasts of the wild, feeding many mouths. Its arrows fly far and strike true.)
Odhel Parf (Long ago, you entered the lands of Eregion. In an ancient Noldor ruin, you found a book. You are not versed in the language of the Deep Elves, and do not understand the flowing script upon the pages, though it is written in the Tehtar that you are familiar with. For some reason, only your hands can open the book, and it snaps shut when anyone else peers at its pages.)
Bonus: Gódhel Melethril (The ways of the High Elves intrigue you, and you have come to understand much of their culture simply by walking in the abandoned ruins of their homes and flets. You receive a +12 bonus when attempting to learn something about the Noldor. [Doesn't apply to the book.])
1 - A shame, so deprived the wisdom of the ancients by their years in isolation. Never leave to a Sindar matters of Noldor concern. To Imladris, then! The last Elvenhome east of the sea! May I find better quarter and aid there, under the light of the Wise.
2 - The journey will be a long one, so I had best see if any are keen or willing to travel with me to Imladris. It will be but a few days, but a companion is so oft missed when one travels. And I have no doubt some among this court long to see Rivendell as well!
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712bc8 No.9832
>>9812
Not you, megamind. I'm talking about the charge for the other mercenaries. I can use a bit of GM handwave and treat it like a normal job. You're getting paid from the kingdom's coffers.
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712bc8 No.9833
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712bc8 No.9836
| Rolled 69, 40 = 109 (2d100) |
>>9767
Name: Urcaugh
Race: Uruk-Hai
Age: 421
Gender: Male
Fluff: Urcaugh, son of Acuzel, Warchief of the Clan Sraez. As much one can be a Warchief of the motley remnants of what was once the great and fearsome army of the Black Orcs, their forges burnt and fortresses razed by the armies of man. A captain before the great defeat, Urcaugh has bided his time, his hand forced by the fires of men, who now are so bold as to step into Mordor itself. Soon, it will be time. Soon, the blade of Urcaugh will feel more than the occasional scout, and the new armies will march once more. Soon, Warchief Urcaugh will make men tremble with fear at his name as their cities burn and their fortresses crumble. Soon, this world will remember the Uruk-Hai are far from dead.
Physically, he is a massive orc, standing at 8' with an intimidating and heavily muscled physique from his age, the oldest Uruk-Hai alive by a mile, and possibly the oldest one to ever live. A follower of Azog the Defiler during his time walking Middle-Earth, Urcaugh's skin is white with magic taint, eyes a sickly blue in imitation of his former leader. He still hopes and wishes for the return of Sauron, to lead the Uruk-Hai to greatness once more - but in the stead of the strongest of the strongest, Urcaugh himself will lead the Uruk-Hai to trample men into the dust.
Skills: [Command II] [Fighting II] [Intimidate I]
Inventory:
The Helm of the Warlord (This helm is an old one to be sure, crafted of wrought iron and inscribed with tales of terrible deeds by the enemies of Men. Each owner adds his own history to the tale of the helm, and your addition has been so long, that you have hanged small bones from its sides, each one carrying the details of a brutal victory.)
The Skull of the King (With you, you carry the skull of your old master's enemy, Thorin II Oakenshield. After the battle which destroyed your master's warband and cost him his life, orc agents under your command raided the tomb of the legendary Dwarf, ransacking the place and escaping with the King's head. You have had it on your belt for as long as any in your clan can remember, save yourself. Though the skin is peeled away and all of the flesh is gone, the skull still affects those who see it, even if they know not where it came from. It speaks to them, saying: "Look upon me. This is the fate of the Free Peoples and all of their works."
Bonus: Massive Warchief (You lead a clan of Orcs and Uruks. Due to your massive size and supernaturally old age, you are feared and respected, with some in the clan whispering that you are more Olog-Hai than Uruk. Your current clan obey your will without question, for better or for worse.)
Followers - Clan Sraez [50 Orcs, 70 Uruk-Hai]
1: Continue directing the reconstruction of Angmar. It should become easier when more Uruks and those more skilled at the understanding of construction and, perhaps, magic serve at my heels, but the main facilities for quarter and armament will be up as soon as possible.
2. Filthy, ignorant mongrels! They will soon regret their pathetic choice. Two of my strongest will come with me, but they will do nothing, other than to show the strength of my command. I will see to these unwilling Uruks myself! They will bring me to the one who thinks himself high enough to cast down my name, and I will tear his head from his body with my hands and rip his spine from his corpse, and then we will see how unwilling they are to follow Urcaugh the Ancient, son of Acuzel! If they do not bow at my feet and beg for mercy and forgiveness, I will rip their clan to shreds for insolence. Every Uruk alive belongs to me, and their lives are MINE to do as I see fit! Let the name of Urcaugh resonate throughout all of Middle-Earth!
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712bc8 No.9838
>>9836
Forgot to add + [Command II] to both, and + [Fighting II] and + [Intimidate I] to the second.
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712bc8 No.9854
>>9797
>>9796
>Everything will always be this long
Awesome!
>The character will always be this irritating and full of himself
Awesome? Good RP?
Kidding. Keep up the good work.
Your first fight seems like a lock. You're put in the arena, a sandy thing, with a Harad spearman. In a few strides and parrys, you have him. However, your ego and need for attention get the better for you, and you let your guard down to rile up the crowd. In that moment of weakness, you let your guard down. The spearman swings low from a prone position, catching your leg and putting you flat on your face. You roll out of the way before he jabs at you, still prone. Both of you get to your feet and you attempt to close the distance between the two of you and bat aside his spear. You close the distance, but you underestimate his strength. He holds the spear fairly fast and you only move it aside enough to keep it from killing you. You get a nasty gsh in your side, but give worse than you got, impaling the man between his ribs. As his lifeless body falls to the ground, your hand finds its way to your side, and you, too, fall. When you awaken, you are in the house of the nobles who you had recently met. You spend some time there, recovering. Your wounds are severe, but not life-threatening. During the days, you drink wine and eat what you please. It is like life was back at home. You don't know why the family are doing this, but you chalk it up to your influence and pedigree. You spend much time speaking business with the man of the house and the rest of your time sleeping or speaking with the women. Your words, you are sure, are working their way into their minds. Soon, your seeds will bear fruit, and you will have a great asset at your disposal.
>Injured: -5 to strenuous physical activity for the next two turns
>Work to gain Noble Sponsorship (2/6)
>>9811
>Prince of Gordon
Oh god. Please make it stop. It hurts so much.
>>9798
After your interaction and subsequent bargaining with the princeling, you return to your practice. A few hours later, and you think you're hitting the target more accurately.
>[Archery II] 2/5
>Royal Contract: You are bound by contract to protect Prince Emmansor of Gondor. Your fees are paid from the royal coffers of the kingdom. Every four turns that you serve with the prince, your wealth goes up by one degree. e.g. If you have High wealth one turn, four turns later, your wealth will be changed to Very High. Of course, extreme spending will change your wealth. (Your wealth is currently Very Low.
>>9806
The Steward's son practically jumps at the chance to work for one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, and the Steward is not displeased, as his son's new job means that his family's position is more secure in your brother's court.
>Your business matters will no longer be issues unless a truly major issue arises
The steps of Minas Tirith are many, and the walls are thick. You wonder if Sauron could have ever taken this city back in the days of the War of the Ring, even if he had breached more than one or two gates. Eventually, you reach the top and the fountain guards there salute you. The White Tree is in full bloom, its leaves seemingly shining with an internal light. Even in your darkest hour, you have been able to look upon this tree and feel at peace. After you pass the Tree and the Fountain, you come to the court of your brother, the king. As it is later in the day, there are not many people seeking audience. You are able to speak with him about your intentions. He is alright with your quest and jokingly offers to 'run the kingdom while you're gone.'
>Your brother endorses your mission
>You have the service of Khamul, son of Khamul (Who was hopefully not related to THAT Khamul.) He is being paid from the king's coffers.
[UPDATE PART I OF ?]
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712bc8 No.9855
>>9818
The land around you is cold, harsh and unforgiving. You are actually able to find a small band of people willing to follow you. They see the makings of greatness within you and are willing to follow you. Right now, there are a dozen of farmers, armed with little more than pitchforks and clubs, but all fairly loyal. However, one of your men owns a set of leather armour and a sword that belonged to his father. The name of the more well-equipped man is Blorimin A little while after the young men offer to follow you, one of your recruits tells you about an old stone complex outside of town. People don't go there, not because it is theologically or culturally significant, and not because of superstition, but because it is dangerous and prone to collapsing in places. However, with a little excavation and some structural repairs, you are able to clear the rubble and shore up the walls, exposing the treasure of the tomb, buried with ancient Northern kings: There are jewels and gold in large chests. Your men carry the coffers out and you assess the worth of the goods.
>You now have Medium-High Wealth
>>9819
After a bit of wandering, you stumble upon a smaller cave in the side of the tunnel. The passage is small and thin, obviously cut into the rock. You squeeze yourself into the hallway. The sides are marked with early Khuzdul runes. Eventually, after what seems like an eternity you reach the far end of the hallway. There, you see a wide open room, rectangular in shape. A coffin lay in the middle of the room. Before it was a statue of a dwarf, about as large as you. Upon its head was a crown and in its hands was a fine sword. However, what interested you most was its fine armour of scales. The walls of the cave seemed to glow a little in this room, and it reflected off of the old king's armour and danced across your face like a rainbow in a pond. This mail was Truesilver. Mithril. Behind the statue was an alcove with stairs within.
>>9825
The journey to Imladris will be long and hard, even though the passage through Moria has been cleared of goblins. At a small treetop inn, you meet a young bard named Laerglir who is willing to travel with you. He is a merry fellow, and is wont to break out in song if the mood strikes him. After a little preperation, you set out for Rivendell, and by the end of the first week, you have passed through Moria and out Hollin's Gate.
>Journey to Imladris: 1/2
>>9836
After a good deal of work, your band has repaired the most glaring damage to the structure with sturdy materials mined from the surrounding mountains. A living area has also been renovated. You, of course, have your own room away from your slaves.
>Reconstruction of Angmar: 1/10
The largest of the orc-pits belongs to Gulmag, an Uruk of great marital skill who rules his clan through fear. When you go before his cave, clad in your sable armour, the guards outside cower in fear as you pass. They do not desire to receive the ire of their master, but they fear you more. You continue uncontested all the way to the hall of Gulmag. He stands tall. Not as tall as you, but quite bulky. In his hands he carries a black spear and a large leather shield.
"So. You are the one who would upset the balance of my lands. I must say, you do not impress me. Many have fought me for dominion over my kingdom. All have been struck-"
While he was talking, you moved closer.Of course, his eye was on you, but his mind was on his mouth. Your massive hands grasp his skull and you dig your thumbs into his eye sockets. With a mighty pull, you tear his head from his shoulders, sinew tearing and hot black blood spraying your face. Once the deed is done, you hold his head by its long dreadlocks and look into its ruined eyes.
"I am glad that we could reach a compromise."
Throwing the head to a nearby goblin, you take up his spear in you hands and break it upon your knee.
"Your chief is dead. If you wish to follow him into the void, come before me and challenge me. If not, kneel and swear your loyalty to me."
All present kneel upon the stony ground. The head of the leader is stuck on the tip of his broken spear and is left outside of the now abandoned grotto.
>Command of Angmar region: 1/6
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712bc8 No.9856
| Rolled 18, 80 = 98 (2d100) |
>>9855
>>9854
>Name: Khamûl son of Khamûl
>Race: Human: Easterling:Variag
>Age: 28
>Gender: Male
Skills: [Archery I] [Barter I] [Fighting II] [Persuade I]
Inventory:
Glaive of Rhun
Mercenary's Lamellar
Bonus: Mercenary
1.
With my contract secured I can relax and cease to worry about mundane things such as that. The prince will call on me when he needs me. And as a mercenary I have nothing more to prepare than my own armor weapons and mount (assuming I have a mount already) so I will resume my training. More than ever before it is imperative to maintain my skills.
>>[Archery II] 2/5
2. While I am here I should spar with some of the guard to train up my own skills and maybe even help a few of these poor bastards not be so worthless. As a bonus helping to train the militia should keep the prince happy. Dark times are coming and every weapon will be needed. Plus I don't get paid if the kingdom falls while I'm off in other areas.
[Fighting II] [Persuade I] (persuade for getting them to train with me and actually listen when they are told something)
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712bc8 No.9859
>>9856
"Khamul, after you finish your training make ready, we move to travel.
We head west. Your keen eyes and bow will be needed on the journey."
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712bc8 No.9860
Name: Prince Emanssor
Race: Dúnedain Human
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Fluff: A younger brother of Aranyond I, and son of High King Eldarion I, Gods rest his soul, Emanssor shares the bloodline of his forefather, that of the High King Elves, and of the Dúnedain and of Numenor. His father, like his great Grandfather Aragorn ii Elessar, continued the tradition, having courted and married elven royalty as his Queen, thus continuing the trend in the bloodlines of the Kings of Gondor, blessing them with long life over lesser men.
From a young age he trained with his brother, and while the the eldest son groomed himself to be a King, Emanssor sought a niche of his own. Gifted the life of a royal and education, but freed of the great responsibility of being heir, he took his education and training in a more special direction. Aranyond learned politics on how to speak as King, Emanssor learned how to speak as himself. Aranyond learned how to manage the Kingdom from above, Emanssor focused on managing it from the inside. When he was 16 his father gave him the task to manage a small market district in disrepair, by the third month he had increased its efficiency and standard of living two-fold, and by the first year his influence had already spread his influence across 7 more city districts, and fostering a close relationship with Doromir II, the aged Steward of Gondor, and grandchild of Elboron son of Boromir. His experience here, imbibing on the trade of the world that flowed into Minas Tirith helped teach him much about the outside world, in particular the Dwarves whom crafted items of great value. Together with the house of the Stewards, they made the jewel of Gondor shine.
Management, not Rule, was his lot in life, and he took it with pride, fostering and overseeing the growth of the Capital.
But as time grew on, even while the Kingdom basked in a golden age of peace, more and more he felt concerned, uneased.
The lessons he had learned when reading the history books, and when studying and seeing over the whims of the market, have all pointed to this one fact:
Every moment of peace and growth will always be proceeded by a period of war and loss. Time and again, this fact has resounded throughout history, for every hill a vale, for every rise a fall.
War will come to Gondor, and perhaps sooner than anyone realized. And all Gondor was content to do was sit and bask in the sun even as the stormclouds would gather.
But his skills had also taught him this much, capitalizing rapid growth was the key to surviving and thriving through any ecomic down-turn. When times were good you acted, not rested, you used the opportunity. You gathered the harvest for the winter months.
Emanssor took up this task, just as his brother became King he warned him of his concerns, and pledged that he would go forth and strengthen the Kingdom of Gondor by whatever means necesssary
Do not fill out the following:
Skills: [Barter I] [Business II] [Diplomacy II]
Inventory:
-The Seal of the Prince (As the brother of the king, and son of Eldarion I, you are an extremely powerful man. Barring the king, you are arguably the most powerful man in Gondor. You wear a signet ring on your finger. Anyone not familiar with you will almost certainly recognize the Royal Seal and give you the respect that is due.)
-The Elfstone (This pendant was given by Orome, the Huntsman of the Valar to Galadriel, and from her to Arwen Undomiel, and from her to Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, High King of the Reunited Kingdom. From his hands, it passed to those of his son, and then into yours. It is a symbol of hope, and in uncertain times, it will bring hope to the hearts of men, and kindle fire in their souls.)
Bonus: Merchant Prince (You are the definition of a merchant prince, and are able to ensure maximum efficiency and productivity from your businesses. Any rolls made to restore productivity to an enterprise, or to improve productivity get +15)
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712bc8 No.9861
| Rolled 13 (1d100) |
>>9860
1. Isengard. . .the wizards tower. . .and that flooded fortress.
For all the evil that Saruman did, one must not forget that he was still "Saruman the Wise." His means, while vile, do not discredit his methods.
In but the relative short span of time, he was able to convert Isengard and its surrounding gardens into a place of forges and mills such as the Dwarves are won't, and in the span of the quest to the destroy the Ring, brought forth an army that would have taken any other years to form.
There was purportedly great efforts made there in maximizing efficiency for a number of different productions. . ."Industry" I believe was the word of the Wizard.
Sarumans use of the Orcs and his fall to evil and ultimate vanquishing by the Ents from his own home was unfortunate, but I believe his ideas can be used for good. And in the least Isengard makes and excellent base of operations for myself outside of Minas tirith for a number of reason.
On the one: Isengard's proximity to the Misty Mountains, and Khaza-dum. Being in proximity with the Dwarves is good, for in these coming times Gondor and the realms of men must maintain strong relations with them.
In addition, Saruman's mistake was angering the Ents and incurring the wroth of Fangorn by burning the forest for fuel, needed to fire the many forges. The Dwarves under the mountain do not burn wood but coal and have it in ready access. Isengard is well adapted for forge work, and is at the foot of the Misty mountains themselves.
And between the ruined forges, and the Tower which still stands, there is much I might learn from the so called "man of craft"
—
I will use my Princes authority to prepare to take Isengard, ordering a Royal mandate that the area be transferred to Imperial Gondorian authority. As well, I will need to prepare a team of Engineers to restore the area back to functionality, especially in light of the massive flooding.
There is of course, one final obstacle. . .the Ents. That, I have plans for as well.
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712bc8 No.9862
| Rolled 10 (1d100) |
>>9861
2. Even as I prepare to move into Isengard, I am not in fact myself headed there.
My current destination is due north. In the forests whence my grandmother is buried. Where Galadriel and her elves one lived.
I head to Lothlorien.
For in that place is the key to many things. To convincing the Ents to peacefully move out of Isengard and to allow us to replant the trees elsewhere in Fangorn. And to ensure Gondor is prepared for the inevitable war to come with ample food.
For in Lothlorien is something more precious than gold.
This I know, from a book given to the Royal family from the Hobbits of the Shire.
A copy of the Red Book of Westmarche.
It is said here that upon his return to the Shire, Samwise Gamgee, to restore the land to fruition after Saruman's scourge of the Shire, brought with him a gift from Galadriel. A box, he wrote, filled with soil from her Gardens in Lothlorien. Thereupon the land was revitalized, and a seed planted that would grow into a great Mallorn tree that still stands tall today.
If such is the case, then perhaps when Galadriel left, some of her gardens remained behind.
I prepare myself a carriage and a Cadre of soldiers, including Khamul. We ride for Lothlorien!
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712bc8 No.9863
| Rolled 92, 59 = 151 (2d100) |
>>9855
Name: Sergiy Grishko
Race: Human
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Fluff: Sergiy was a simple baker, harvesting wheat from his farms to make bread and sell it for his family. Eventually, he managed to gather enough money to buy a herd of cattle, and make a fence for the cows. He then sold beef to caravans, adventurers, military groups, and anybody traveling in his area. He was a popular source of food in his area, and managed to hoard together enough currency to buy himself some very basic training, a rusty sword, and something harder than ragged clothing. He handed over the business to the rest of his family, and set out in thirst of adventure, and glory.
Skills: [Animal Handling I] [Barter II] [Culinary Arts I] [Fighting I]
Inventory:
Old Sword (This old sword was surely once a gleaming sign of pride and a potent weapon in battle, but now it is rusted, its edge jagged and worn. However, the blade simply feels RIGHT in your hands)
Draft Horse (You own a draft horse, a trusty steed from your farming days. It's served you well, and is strong enough to carry you and a moderate load.
Bonus: Beastmaster (Cattle can be difficult creatures. They are stubbourn and sometimes deadly. After working with them for years, you have the patience it takes to calm down an excited animal. No horse you ride will get spooked and throw you. Even wild animals are more accepting of your presence than they would be otherwise.)
1: Well then, now that we have some wealth, lets get some better gear for us all! (Head back to the town and buy better gear for my party) [Barter II]
2: After we get some better stuff for my party, we head back out, and explore some more!
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712bc8 No.9867
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712bc8 No.9869
| Rolled 86, 53 = 139 (2d100) |
>>9855
Name: Tabur the Inquisitive
Race: Dwarf
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Fluff: Known for putting his nose where it doesn't belong Tabur is the kind of dwarf to go where he shouldn't go, dig where he shouldn't dig and ask what's best left unasked. As such he is always on the move, either looking for the next interesting thing, or running away from an angry mob. But he wouldn't have it any other way, the world if filled with wonders and lost treasures to be found, and he is out to find them all.
Skills: [Athletics I] [Investigation I] [Survival II] [Travel I]
Inventory:
Ancestral Axe
Boots of the Traveler
Bonus: Tashfati Udlag
To think that he would find something like this so soon. It was something Tabur couldn't even dream of! Except he had, repeatedly, but even so he had to admire his luck. He felt a little disheartened that he didn't have anyone to share this moment with, if only Othic hadn't gotten killed under that cave in… Regardless Tabur knew that there was no sense lamenting the past with such treasure in front of him.
1) Time to commit the writing on the walls to memory as best he could, after all, history is also a treasure of great worth.
2) Tabur takes the mithril mail and assures his, or at least some dwarf's, dead ancestor that he will one day return it when he possesses greater treasures. And while he realises such a day might never be he still fully intends to do so. To one day return to the beginning of his journey to tell this dead dwarf his whole story, or perhaps have someone bring his body here to be entombed. As he finishes putting on the armour he heads out and takes the stairs in search of an exit.
>tl;dr he takes the mail and heads out
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712bc8 No.9871
| Rolled 42, 71 = 113 (2d100) |
>>9855
Name: Urcaugh
Race: Uruk-Hai
Age: 421
Gender: Male
Fluff: Urcaugh, son of Acuzel, Warchief of the Clan Sraez. As much one can be a Warchief of the motley remnants of what was once the great and fearsome army of the Black Orcs, their forges burnt and fortresses razed by the armies of man. A captain before the great defeat, Urcaugh has bided his time, his hand forced by the fires of men, who now are so bold as to step into Mordor itself. Soon, it will be time. Soon, the blade of Urcaugh will feel more than the occasional scout, and the new armies will march once more. Soon, Warchief Urcaugh will make men tremble with fear at his name as their cities burn and their fortresses crumble. Soon, this world will remember the Uruk-Hai are far from dead.
Physically, he is a massive orc, standing at 8' with an intimidating and heavily muscled physique from his age, the oldest Uruk-Hai alive by a mile, and possibly the oldest one to ever live. A follower of Azog the Defiler during his time walking Middle-Earth, Urcaugh's skin is white with magic taint, eyes a sickly blue in imitation of his former leader. He still hopes and wishes for the return of Sauron, to lead the Uruk-Hai to greatness once more - but in the stead of the strongest of the strongest, Urcaugh himself will lead the Uruk-Hai to trample men into the dust.
Skills: [Command II] [Fighting II] [Intimidate I]
Inventory:
The Helm of the Warlord (This helm is an old one to be sure, crafted of wrought iron and inscribed with tales of terrible deeds by the enemies of Men. Each owner adds his own history to the tale of the helm, and your addition has been so long, that you have hanged small bones from its sides, each one carrying the details of a brutal victory.)
The Skull of the King (With you, you carry the skull of your old master's enemy, Thorin II Oakenshield. After the battle which destroyed your master's warband and cost him his life, orc agents under your command raided the tomb of the legendary Dwarf, ransacking the place and escaping with the King's head. You have had it on your belt for as long as any in your clan can remember, save yourself. Though the skin is peeled away and all of the flesh is gone, the skull still affects those who see it, even if they know not where it came from. It speaks to them, saying: "Look upon me. This is the fate of the Free Peoples and all of their works."
Bonus: Massive Warchief (You lead a clan of Orcs and Uruks. Due to your massive size and supernaturally old age, you are feared and respected, with some in the clan whispering that you are more Olog-Hai than Uruk. Your current clan obey your will without question, for better or for worse.)
Followers - Clan Sraez [110 Orcs, 100 Uruk-Hai]
1. Having a true living space after all these years is truly nice, even if we have not repaired far enough to reach the grand and luxurious rooms of the Witch-King that I, Warchief of all Uruk-kind deserve, but we have only just begun our work. I have nearly doubled the numbers of Clan Sraez, particularly of the hardy and stupid Uruks. This should help repairs and progress on the fortress greatly - though I do not expect it to be built by tomorrow, nearly a hundred extra hands will be a a great help. Now that enough of the living quarters have been excavated, we will focus on clearing the centre of the fort, with it's forges and barracks, among other shops and services, useless to me. Our Lord Sauron understood the running of an army - of ranks, of knowing your place, of the fittest and strongest coming to the top, and of cheap and steady arms and armor. None other tha I understand this, and I will crush the lands of Men following in the footsteps of Sauron himself. I will make him proud in army and deed. You! Get to work, maggot! [Reconstruction 1/10]
+ [Command II]
2. Gulmag only held the largest pit - far from the only in Angmar. I doubt any other will show hesitation in pledging themselves to undying loyalty under me, for the total destruction of all the filthy other races on this cursed land. If any of these pathetic weaklings do - they will meet the same face as Gulmag the Wretch did. All of Angmar belongs to me. If anyone takes issue with that, they are welcome to bring their thoughts to me. I value them as much as the mud under my iron boots, but it is a good way to cull the weak. Our race becomes stronger every time one of these pathetic weaklings is culled.
[Command of Angmar 1/6]
+ [Command II]
+ [Intimidate I]
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712bc8 No.9874
>>9854
>Name:
Axantur Marravar
>Race:
Black Numenorean
>Age:
23
>Gender:
Male
>Location:
Urlutsu Nurn
>Wealth:
???
>Fluff:
Ambitious, scheming and violent, this Black Numenorean yearns to attain the wealth and power his family once knew as corsair lords.
>Skills:
[Command I] [Fighting II] [Magic I] [Noble Interaction I]
>Inventory:
[The Traitor's Sword] - Long ago, during the reign of the mad king Ar-Pharazon, this blade was forged for the king by the Dark Lord Sauron for use in the planned conquest of Valinor. The blade found its way into your family's hands some few thousand years ago. Though worn with age, it still inspires fear in the cravens of the West. As the most skilled swordsman of the family, you have been entrusted with the weapon.
[The Masque of Marravar] - Your family is old. This mask is just as old. Another heirloom of your ancestors, the Masque of Marravar is a relic of ancient times. Within its iron spikes, a shard of Ancalagon the Black's tooth lies. The masque radiates an aura of primal power and the promise of destruction.
>Bonus:
[Slightly Magical] - There's something strange about you. Nobody's really sure what it is, but you feel that it has something to do with your heritage. You have minor latent magical abilities. Right now you can only perform minor magic. You can move a small stone rather quickly, or a small sword rather slowly (Too slowly to injure anyone). There may be room to improve your skills.
>Injured: -5 to strenuous physical activity for the next two turns
>Noble Sponsorship 2/6
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712bc8 No.9875
| Rolled 97 (1d100) |
>>9874
It's a dark day when somebody of my stature, my lineage, can be laid low by a simple commoner. As I lie awake at night, I search my soul. How could this happen? What was it that enabled a plebeian to wound me so seriously?
Am I simply not as magnificent as I keep telling myself? The worrying thought flashes across my mind for a moment, the dark of night bearing oppressively down on me, tainting my thoughts with uncertainty.
No. No, that cannot be it. I am Fated for Greatness. I know it in my bones. Even now, the nobles of this place who I sought to endorse me think highly enough of my abilities to host me while I recover from my injury.
That in itself is an opportunity that ought not to be squandered.
It is tempting to idle in bed until my side no longer bleeds, partaking of the rich foods and wine so easily accessible, brief tastes of a life I ought to have known - but the thought that I might be so easily seduced into complacency and slothfulness is appalling. And for what? A scant night or two of drunken indulgence? I'm better than that.
So reminding myself, I am on my feet as soon as I am able. Though I limp, and the pain in my side is a constant reminder of my failure, I endure it all with hissed breaths and gritted teeth. Showing weakness does not come easily to the sons of Numenor.
I seek out the library that every house as large as this one surely holds. It is clear I need more information. The peoples of Harad were allies of Umbar for a long, long time - and that one of their spearmen had the determination to lay me low even after they were beaten shows that they must have been supremely useful tools.
I move among the stacks, searching for titles concerned with history - particularly that detailing the aftermath of the War of the Ring.
I will need more allies - and that Haradrim impressed me. I will discover what iniquities "Elessar the Numenorean" visited upon the southrons, where the borders now lie, where their strength is concentrated. I will scour the books for mention of the fate of the Hasharii, Sauron's shadowy cult of southern assassins. I will also seek to learn what happened to the majority of Mordor's orcs, as they are scarcely spotted in Nurn's cities save as curiosities.
>Find out about potential allies by reading histories
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712bc8 No.9877
>>9875
Dice roll: Rolled 18 (1d100)
Hopefully, my diligence alone will be enough to impress my hosts - after all, lesser men than I might have been disheartened by such an injury, and taken to gorging themselves on the luxuries presented to them. This alone should prove me a worthy captain - But I should be prepared to accept that it may not.
In the course of my stay in their manor, as I recover well enough to travel by my own power, I will no doubt come across the man of the house and the ladies. While I would not expect them to visit at my bedside, they have been uncommonly - perhaps even suspiciously - generous. If I can discover the reasoning behind this move, I should have an advantage in negotiations. Do they already consider me a likely prospect? Or perhaps one of the family has taken a liking to me and insisted that I should not be allowed to die, lifeblood colouring the arena sand.
Whatever the case, Destiny is still clearly with me, and the family are clearly comfortable enough with me to invite me into their home to stay - if only until my wounds seal. This shows that progress has been made.
This trust is invaluable, and as I am here to heal, future negotiations can take a more relaxed pace. Poring over maps in the library, I can plot out prospective routes for a voyage to maximise profitability. I can list goods that will be required in the east, and fetch a good price to exchange for things scarce in the west.
If asked about my studies of history, I can talk about past glories and freedoms enjoyed by far-flung nations before their subjugation under the Reunited Crown. Taxes did not always flow back to a bloated and greedy aristocracy languishing in Minas Tirith. Foreign masters did not always dictate to the men of the south and east. And reactions to this line of discussion will be key. If the family is enraptured by the idea of freedom from the Gondorian yoke about their necks, I might be inclined to speak a touch more freely around them - but if they respond negatively, they might consider me a traitor to the realm if I continued that line of discussion.
Needless to say, that must be avoided.
>Work on Noble Sponsorship (2/6)
+[Command I] +[Magic I] +[Noble Interaction I]
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712bc8 No.9894
| Rolled 48, 95 = 143 (2d100) |
>>9855
Name: Nimen Ador-penn
Race: Elf (Avari)
Age: 94
Gender: Male
Fluff: It is said that the fate of elves is twofold - to pass back into the West, and live among the Valar in the Undying Lands, or to remain, and slowly fade until they are less than spirits. The Avari do not have this choice. They were the Unwilling, who did not follow Orome into Valinor when the world was young. And for that they have paid, consigned to the deep forests and untouched places of the world, ignored by all but the earliest Men.
Nimen relives this truth daily, one so connected to the earth but forever separate from its inhabitants. Hunting, tracking, knowing the land better than any short-lived race could. He comes from the Penni tribe of Avari in the far east, hence his surname, but has long wished to experience the world of the Eldarin, their culture, their ways. Sadly, he was born too late to encounter them at their height. But Nimen still holds out hope, that if he can learn from the High Elves, he can bring some of that greatness and renown back to his own people.
Skills: [Archery II] [Survival II] [Tracking I]
Inventory:
Amrunfir (When you were young, you carved this bow from the heartwood of a yew. With it, you have felled many beasts of the wild, feeding many mouths. Its arrows fly far and strike true.)
Odhel Parf (Long ago, you entered the lands of Eregion. In an ancient Noldor ruin, you found a book. You are not versed in the language of the Deep Elves, and do not understand the flowing script upon the pages, though it is written in the Tehtar that you are familiar with. For some reason, only your hands can open the book, and it snaps shut when anyone else peers at its pages.)
Bonus: Gódhel Melethril (The ways of the High Elves intrigue you, and you have come to understand much of their culture simply by walking in the abandoned ruins of their homes and flets. You receive a +12 bonus when attempting to learn something about the Noldor. [Doesn't apply to the book.])
>Journey to Imladris 1/2
>Companion: Laerglir the Spoony Bard
1/2 - Good companions are as vital as good food and wine on any trip. Let him sing, for song leavens the load and raises the spirits on so long a voyage. I may even join him, for some songs of the Eldar and the Avari are known to me. He may even know some Noldorin lays!
Of course, I can also subsist off the land as we travel. These days so much of the wilderness is abandoned. The Elves and Orcs have left it, and Men have not yet taken it. There is only the stark winds and deeply-shaded trees in this area, but that means game for the plenty.
>+Archery II, Survival II, Amrunfir
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712bc8 No.10017
>>9856
On this particular day, you are unable to make any headway at the range. Since you are moving soon, you need to wrap up your training, at least at the range. Later that day, you whirl in the training yard under the setting sun. One after another, the trainees of the garrison fall before you and your quarterstaff. The sergeant in charge of training the troops was so impressed by your abilities that he gave you a gift: a recurve bow, a belt quiver, and two dozen arrows. The crown provided you with a horse after a good deal of paperwork.
>>9861
Your plans immediately run into a major snag when you set your sights upon Isengard and Orthanc. After the War of the Ring, King Elessar granted the Ents of Fangorn Forest total independence from the Reunited Kingdom, including their newly acquired Treegarth of Orthanc. Neither you nor the King have any power there, nor would your brother be willing to risk an incident with Fangorn and the other Ents. With time (As Ents are known to take a long time to do much of anything), you may be able to gain access to the ruined circle and the tower within, but for now, the former realm of Curunir is closed to you. Lothlorien is in a similar state, being a sanctuary of some of the few remaining woodland Elves. After the exchange of a few messenger birds between the realms of Men and Elves, the king of Lothlorien, Lemyaran, agrees to grant you access to the realm, but the way there will not be easy, as no roads exist directly between Minas Tirith and Lothlorien. The simplest part of the journey would be the first portion, whereby your group would travel North and West along the North-South Road, through Anorien and the Eastfold to Edoras, where King Ærnan makes his court. From there, you would strike North, through roadless West Emnet, where you would skirt the Eastern edge of Fangorn Forest, fording the Entwash, crossing the Wold and the River Limlight before finally arriving in the heavily forested Lothlorien.
>>9856
>>9862
Your small group, comprised of a score of elite guardsmen on horseback, each with his own pack and supplies, and yourselves, set out on an autumn morning. Dew sticks to the long blades of the Pelennor Fields, wetting your horses' legs and hooves. The air is crisp, and feels pleasant as you inhale the damp morning vapors. All in the company are comfortably wrapped in your woolen cloaks, and your spirits are high as you pass peasants working diligently in the fertile fields around the White City.
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712bc8 No.10019
>>9863
1. The village smith is unaccustomed with the craft of armour, but the local tanner is more than willing to supply your men with hard armour, studded with steel. In fact, the leatherworker practically jumped at the chance to work for you when he saw what you were willing to pay him for his craft. As it turns out, he has been courting a local woman for a long while and has been unable to afford a ring. When you produced one, as a part of potential payment, he told you that he needed no more than the fine ruby band that you offered him.
+ Leather armour for yourself and your men
The hoary ground crunches under the weight of your company as you roam the countryside. Little grows here, but you are able to find a road leading South, with the little village behind you being the Northern terminus of the path.
>>9869
The words on the wall seem to pour into your mind, an open cup for the fount of old Khuzdul that pours from the chamber walls. They tell the tale of an ancient noble of Moria, the second son of Durin the Deathless. He was one of the first Dwarves to be born in the halls of Khazad-Dum, and was also among the first to die there, having single-handedly fought off an orcish incursion from the deeps. After you pay your respects, you take the Mithril mail and ascend the staircase which seems to go on forever. Indeed, you travel so far on the stair that you find yourself needing to sleep upon a landing before travelling onwards. After your slumber, you resume your journey and emerge upon the treacherous Redhorn pass upon Caradhras. The wind buffets you at this altitude, and the snow chills your bones.
>>9871
The construction continues to go well, and your forces cannibalize several unnecessary amenities in order to rebuild some of the more strategically important positions. The walls are coming along quite nicely.
[Reconstruction 2/10]
Once again, you call your entourage to your side and don your armour, before marching to the nearest orc-pit and kicking their pathetic, sniveling leader into submission. After he is defeated, you have your four strongest Uruks pull him apart limb from limb. His orcs are yours.
+40 Orcs
[Command of Angmar 2/6]
>>9874
>>9875
>>9877
>Injured: -5 to strenuous physical activity for the next turn
As it turns out, not all of the Haradrim and Easterlings were willing to join the Reunited Kingdom after the wars of King Elessar. Many tribes joined without violence, but more resisted than you had previously thought. Parts of Far Harad remain tribal and lawless to this day. Perhaps they can be easily exploited and controlled? The tribes of Rhun are more civilized, but only barely, with most of their people living a nomadic lifestyle. Petty inter-tribal wars are waged, but these are wholly unimportant to the powers that be in the West, owing partly to the fact that such wars are oftentimes composed of benign raids of intimidation or of rare honour killings, with no real death tolls to speak of. Throughout a few of the texts, you find reference to the Yalagdashgüi tribe, often called the Yalag. They have, apparently, held out against the forces of Gondor for hundreds of years. This cold war is unknown to the population at large, and you stumbled upon it by most extraordinary fortune, after finding an old letter in an even older book, addressed from the once-chief of the Yalag to King Eldarion, referencing the conflict. These men of Rhun could prove to be valuable tools.
>I'm getting wicked tired. I'll do this portion of the update on low fuel. I'll get to >>9894 and an in-universe announcement tomorrow. Sorry.
The people of the family don't seem to ask you many questions over the course of your recovery. This suits you well enough, and they have been quite friendly, doing nothing to suggest any ulterior motive, at least not one that could affect you negatively.
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712bc8 No.10027
| Rolled 59, 82 = 141 (2d100) |
>>10017
>>Name: Khamûl son of Khamûl
>>Race: Human: Easterling:Variag
>>Age: 28
>>Gender: Male
>Skills: [Archery I] [Barter I] [Fighting II] [Persuade I]
>Inventory:
>very low wealth
>Glaive of Rhun
>Mercenary's Lamellar
>a recurve bow, a belt quiver, and two dozen arrows.
>Bonus: Mercenary
1.2. Scout around the party as we move make sure nothing Pops out or can ambush us
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712bc8 No.10028
| Rolled 78, 98 = 176 (2d100) |
>>10019
Name: Tabur the Inquisitive
Race: Dwarf
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Fluff: Known for putting his nose where it doesn't belong Tabur is the kind of dwarf to go where he shouldn't go, dig where he shouldn't dig and ask what's best left unasked. As such he is always on the move, either looking for the next interesting thing, or running away from an angry mob. But he wouldn't have it any other way, the world if filled with wonders and lost treasures to be found, and he is out to find them all.
Skills: [Athletics I] [Investigation I] [Survival II] [Travel I]
Wealth: Low gold
Inventory: Backpack, Clothing, Rations, a few feet of rope, Mithril Mail
Ancestral Axe
Boots of the Traveler
Bonus: Tashfati Udlag
While the pass was in front of him Tabur felt that this was the sight he would remember as the beginning of his journey. The moment when he emerges from the caves to see the sky and feel the wind, cold as it might be. Nothing to do but to trek onwards, either to find his way back to Khazad-Dum, or to head onwards to some other settlement. The quest for treasure and adventure had finally begun.
1-2) Onwards through the pass!
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712bc8 No.10045
>>10028
>>10027
>I specifically said: "I'll get to >>9894 and an in-universe announcement tomorrow."
>Let's post, guise
I just can't fucking win with you guys, can I? Whatever.
My builder just needs players. It's not like I appreciate you guys or anything.
In any event, getting on with my last update.
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712bc8 No.10058
>>9894
RETCON ALERT. WE ARE GOING TO RETCON 2. CONTINUITY CHANGES ARE IMMINENT. The following is a summing-up of the entirety of Nimen Ador-Penn's journey.
The leaves of Lorien no longer glow with the light of the Sun now that the Ring of Adamant has been broken. It was used to create a realm most fair, perhaps the fairest in all of Middle-Earth, but with the passing of Galadriel and Celeborn into the West, the light of the Elder days faded from the land.
None of that is to say that beauty has abandoned Lorien. Indeed, it is almost as beautiful as it was in the Third Age of the Sun. The leaves on the Mallorn trees still turn gold in the autumn, like honey against the silver of the trees' bark.
It is in this time of year that you depart Lorien, with merry songs on your lips and waybread in your bags. For several days, you head North through Dimrill Dale, where the grass is still a bright green, despite the crisp bite in the air. Soon, you come to Sîr Ninglor, known as Gladden River to Men. The two of you debate on how to cross the river. You would prefer to simply ford the river at a shallow point, but Laerglir thinks that you should go through the less liquid Loeg Ningloron, the Gladden Fields, where irises grow taller than men. In the end, you pass through that way, at the meeting of the Gladden and the Anduin. While there, you tell your companion tales of that place. You tell him about how, only two years after the defeat of Sauron, King Isildur was passing through North of here on his way to Arnor. He and his three eldest sons were ambushed by orcs. The heirs of Isildur fought bravely, but the King fled the battle using the power of the Ruling Ring. His sons were butchered by the orcs. Isildur ran to the Anduin, which he tried to cross, but he was swept South by a strong current. The ring fell from his hand. When the King of men stood up in the fields of irises, he was slain by orcs waiting for survivors to come downstream, ending his two year reign.
After the end of the Third Age, this was recorded in the Red Book of Westmarch, among other histories. You studied a copy of the book for a while, buy could not afford it, nor could you feasibly carry it with you through the wild, as it was extremely large. Throughout the tale, Laerglir listened silently, which was atypical for him. Once you passed through that land, you came to the High Pass through the Misty Mountains, where you planned to cross the range. Your companion had made no mention of Moria or any other subterranean route through the mountains, which suited you fine. Without the light of the sun or stars, you always felt lost and confused. Even under the great canopies of Greenwood the Great you felt more at home than you ever could under the earth. If Eru had wanted Elves to live underground, he would have given them pickaxes rather than bows. The pass was treacherous, but you kept your spirits up with songs of heroism and humor, along with warm stews from mountain hares and goats. By the time you descended into Eregion, your bones ached, but your hearts sang. Once Imladris was in sight, Laerglir burst into song as he often did, but this time, the tale it told was one of your journey, as well as a prayer for many more merry miles.
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712bc8 No.10061
>>9874
>>9894
>>9869
>>9863
>>9862
>>9856
Whispers of an evil force growing in the North have intensified. Orc attacks have become more common and well-planned, causing some merchants and officials of the Kingdom to hire mercenaries to protect their goods or their persons. One name pops up more and more often in the halls of the realm's leaders, always in hushed tones and in dark corners. It is a name that the tongues of men seem to be loath to utter: Gothmog.
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712bc8 No.10062
>>9871
One night, while the hammers of your orcs ring out in the night, you awaken from your rest to find a letter nailed to your door. It simply reads:
'Your service is noticed.'
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712bc8 No.10105
| Rolled 81, 20 = 101 (2d100) |
>>10017
1-2. Continue to head for Lothlorien with all due haste.
I shall make a visit to the grave of my Grandmother, who lies buried here, and pay her my respects then speak business to the King Ærnan. I bring him the good will and faith of Gondor and the Men of the West, but the tidings I bring while in goodwill and faith from Gondor are not ones of peace.
There is trouble stirring again in middle earth. History has shown that when the forces of evil such as the Orcs are left alone for too long they build up in great number, and while this may not affect Lothlorien it does affect the world at large.
I am here to strengthen the bond between Men and Elves that my forefather and his forefather have done time and again. I seek the Gardens of Galadriel, or whence they once stood, to find if I may the legendary soil of there that made the Shire bloom again.
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712bc8 No.10108
| Rolled 43, 3 = 46 (2d100) |
>>10019
Name: Urcaugh
Race: Uruk-Hai
Age: 421
Gender: Male
Fluff: Urcaugh, son of Acuzel, Warchief of the Clan Sraez. As much one can be a Warchief of the motley remnants of what was once the great and fearsome army of the Black Orcs, their forges burnt and fortresses razed by the armies of man. A captain before the great defeat, Urcaugh has bided his time, his hand forced by the fires of men, who now are so bold as to step into Mordor itself. Soon, it will be time. Soon, the blade of Urcaugh will feel more than the occasional scout, and the new armies will march once more. Soon, Warchief Urcaugh will make men tremble with fear at his name as their cities burn and their fortresses crumble. Soon, this world will remember the Uruk-Hai are far from dead.
Physically, he is a massive orc, standing at 8' with an intimidating and heavily muscled physique from his age, the oldest Uruk-Hai alive by a mile, and possibly the oldest one to ever live. A follower of Azog the Defiler during his time walking Middle-Earth, Urcaugh's skin is white with magic taint, eyes a sickly blue in imitation of his former leader. He still hopes and wishes for the return of Sauron, to lead the Uruk-Hai to greatness once more - but in the stead of the strongest of the strongest, Urcaugh himself will lead the Uruk-Hai to trample men into the dust.
Skills: [Command II] [Fighting II] [Intimidate I]
Inventory:
The Helm of the Warlord (This helm is an old one to be sure, crafted of wrought iron and inscribed with tales of terrible deeds by the enemies of Men. Each owner adds his own history to the tale of the helm, and your addition has been so long, that you have hanged small bones from its sides, each one carrying the details of a brutal victory.)
The Skull of the King (With you, you carry the skull of your old master's enemy, Thorin II Oakenshield. After the battle which destroyed your master's warband and cost him his life, orc agents under your command raided the tomb of the legendary Dwarf, ransacking the place and escaping with the King's head. You have had it on your belt for as long as any in your clan can remember, save yourself. Though the skin is peeled away and all of the flesh is gone, the skull still affects those who see it, even if they know not where it came from. It speaks to them, saying: "Look upon me. This is the fate of the Free Peoples and all of their works."
Bonus: Massive Warchief (You lead a clan of Orcs and Uruks. Due to your massive size and supernaturally old age, you are feared and respected, with some in the clan whispering that you are more Olog-Hai than Uruk. Your current clan obey your will without question, for better or for worse.)
Followers - Clan Sraez [150 Orcs, 100 Uruk-Hai]
1. Reparation must continue! We will need more living space for my growing numbers. Orcish living space. The barracks will be fine to hold my officers, later on, but the common, sniveling Uruks under me deserve nothing more than the pits. Besides, if I am to grow, I will need my breeding pits constructed as soon as possible. In the cleared space, begin the proper construction of a pit, within Angmar. My army will grow. [Reconstruction 2/10]
2. MY SERVICE, IT HAS THE GUTS TO SAY? URCAUGH THE ANCIENT SERVES NO ONE! NO ONE! TIGHTEN SECURITY WITH THE NEW RECRUITS - THE NEXT MAN THAT THINKS HIMSELF BOLD ENOUGH TO COME NEAR THESE LANDS WILL ADORN MY ROOM WITH HIS SKULL! GRAH!
There is still work to be done other than that. I will need more than just these grunts in my army - I require officers, commanders, strong leaders and exceptional subordinates, as the great Sauron taught. After the death of those two pathetic fools, I doubt the other pit leaders will have any qualms with bowing to me. I may have use for them - in my growing clan, a true, formal hierarchy will be needed soon. And I have a pitiful lack of respectable lieutenants at the moment. All of Angmar must bend the knee to me, and that will need officers. [Reunification 2/6]
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712bc8 No.10120
>>10019
>Name:
Axantur Marravar
>Race:
Black Numenorean
>Age:
23
>Gender:
Male
>Location:
Urlutsu Nurn
>Wealth:
???
>Fluff:
Ambitious, scheming and violent, this Black Numenorean yearns to attain the wealth and power his family once knew as corsair lords.
>Skills:
[Command I] [Fighting II] [Magic I] [Noble Interaction I]
>Inventory:
[The Traitor's Sword] - Long ago, during the reign of the mad king Ar-Pharazon, this blade was forged for the king by the Dark Lord Sauron for use in the planned conquest of Valinor. The blade found its way into your family's hands some few thousand years ago. Though worn with age, it still inspires fear in the cravens of the West. As the most skilled swordsman of the family, you have been entrusted with the weapon.
[The Masque of Marravar] - Your family is old. This mask is just as old. Another heirloom of your ancestors, the Masque of Marravar is a relic of ancient times. Within its iron spikes, a shard of Ancalagon the Black's tooth lies. The masque radiates an aura of primal power and the promise of destruction.
>Bonus:
[Slightly Magical] - There's something strange about you. Nobody's really sure what it is, but you feel that it has something to do with your heritage. You have minor latent magical abilities. Right now you can only perform minor magic. You can move a small stone rather quickly, or a small sword rather slowly (Too slowly to injure anyone). There may be room to improve your skills.
>Injured: -5 to strenuous physical activity for the next two turns
>Noble Sponsorship 2/6
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712bc8 No.10121
| Rolled 56 (1d100) |
>>10061
What cause for concern is some long-forgotten name? An orcish general from the war of the ring is no threat with his kind so scattered, and an ancient Balrog's return would not be rumoured, it would be known. What force could conceal such? This pitiful, gossiping sensationalism will not distract me from my tasks - or my recovery.
>>10120
1. The Yalagdashgüi tribe? A strange name. But once I convince the master of this house to sponsor an expedition into the east with me at its head, i'm certain I will have the opportunity to range further afield than originally intended in order to meet with these rebellious easterlings.
If they can be convinced to part with their wealth for western crafts, we should see enough of a profit that the detour is justified in the eyes of any patron - and what better crafts to bring to a warring tribe than weapons and armour, or the ores to craft such pulled from the earth of my prospective sponsor's southern mines?
The benefits of arming them thus would be threefold - it would earn their gratitude, perhaps their allegiance - it would give them an edge in their tribal wars, and set them on the path to dominating the other tribes - and last but not least, could make my expedition profitable beyond my previous wild imaginings.
I will pore over maps of rivers and roads, charting the best potential courses into the far east to show to the man of this house. I will cite petty tribal issues as profitable while being ultimately inconsequential. I will prove the value of my forethought, my diligence, my mastery of anything I set my mind to - and they will see that they were fools ever to think that my one trifling failure in the arena was something to be concerned about.
>Chart a course to impress the nobles
>Work on Noble Sponsorship (2/6)
+[Command I] +[Magic I] +[Noble Interaction I]
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712bc8 No.10122
| Rolled 73 (1d100) |
>>10121
2. There is another concern, heading into the east to trade with the primitive tribals. Despite their low culture and relative dim-witted unintelligence, their talent for violence could place a caravan in danger - especially one as richly appointed as I hope mine to be, carrying refined metals, exotic crafts and western curiosities.
Which means, of course, that it will need to be guarded, and though I am certain there will be no problems finding suitable men at arms their loyalty must be unquestionable.
As such, I need to be able to command them without any daring to question my authority. Is this a task for which I should don the Masque? Retrieve it from the relative safety of its hiding-place among my personal belongings, and employ the heirloom of my ancient house to intimidate a gaggle of plebeians into cowed servitude?
I think not.
But there is another option. Am I not touched by Destiny? Can I not learn to inspire the same love and loyalty as the legendary heroes of old? The King's Men were often powerful sorcerers, able to use their talents to impress their magnificence upon their servants. Around the mightiest, there were even auras of cold and fear, and who has not heard of a rebellious thrall or upstart hero being broken by an imperious stare?
I can try to focus my natural ability to that end, but I am no great sorcerer-king of antiquity.
And while supernatural domination may be beyond my reach, I can certainly improve my skills of command. The blood of Numenor is in me, and it is evident from my great height, noble features and compelling presence. My voice is naturally suited to the giving of orders, and it is said that many will obey anything, so long as they are instructed with confidence.
Nevertheless, I will study the works of great leaders and seek to emulate their strategies around those of lesser station.
>Improve [Command I], and attempt to learn how to use [Magic I] to influence people
+[Slightly Magical]
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712bc8 No.10123
>>9552
Name: Húrin Mithriâ
Race: Human (50/50 Dúnedain/Edain)
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Fluff: There are people in life that you met that can be described as anything other then "extraordinary" people who are so plain that you could meet them and forget them the next day, people who have no features that make them stand out or excel particularly in any one area. Húrin was one of these people. A guard of the city of Minas Tirith, as was his father and his father's father, and his father's father, who actually fought in the war of the ring, and if you look juuuust hard enough, you can see where the dent in the wall is that he made when that battle troll whipped him against the wall when the Armies of Sauron broke into the city. Through some stroke of luck, or rather, years of dutiful and diligent, if rather plain and boring, determination, Húrin was promoted to A citadel guard, where he now spends the rest of his days patrolling the upper levels of the White city and occasionally going out on forays when his majesty seems fit too. Things are nice and plain, just as they are and always will be; After all, when's the last time something bad happened to someone named Húrin ?
Do not fill out the following:
Skills:
Inventory:
Bonus:
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712bc8 No.30629
Dara I demand you continue this game.
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712bc8 No.30689
>>30629
don't you ignore me dara
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712bc8 No.30738
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712bc8 No.30768
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712bc8 No.30809
>>30768
I don't think that the image I posted means what you think it means.
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712bc8 No.37314
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