Full Name: Maethor Aemornion, son of Berenion
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Numenorian line - South Dunedain)
Age: 43
Born: 1.(Fourth Age) - South Ithilien
Profession / Titles: Captain of the 1st master battalion of Minas Tirith, Wielder of The Sword of Ecthelion, Captain of the White Tower.
Residance: Minas Tirith, Ithilien, Dol Amroth
Weapons: The sword of Ecthelion, two hunting knives, Elenglos (double edged strong dagger forged by unknown elven smithies long ago. Recieved it as a generous gift from an high-elven lady of the star-born line)
Physical description: 5'10" (180cm), dark-hazel eyes, very short dark hair and slightly tanned skin. Like most Gondorians has a well built frame; stout neck, wide shoulders, strong torso, long legs and powerful arms. Usually is clad in his battle uniform consisting of a mail-shirt that is covered by a sleeveless leather jacket with a symbol of the white tree engraved over the chest, light armor plates fastened on the shoulders, dark breeches, black leather boots and a dark belt strapped around his waist with a forged mithril clip with golden insignia. Also he wears a long and broad black-silver cape pinned with a silver star brooch around the neck and dark-maroon leather wrist straps (vambraces) marked with the white tree of Gondor. On the battlefront is clad in full Gondorian infantry body armor and wears a cold-forged gondorian shield-wing helmet and gauntlets.
Picture:
The portrait done by Silmarwen Idril (Dhodrimme). Once again, I'm forever thankful for making it. Thank you my friend!
History: Aemornion was born one year after the War of the Ring. His father Berenion was a descendent from the Faithful line of Numenor. Berenion was the son of Baranor making him older brother of Beregond of the Guard (the soldier that saved Prince Faramir from the madness of his father, the last ruling steward of Gondor). Aemornion's mother was Gilwen of Dol Amroth who had been also of the noble line. Aemornion lived with his family in South Ithilien near the old Crossroads. The life was peaceful for a moment and he enjoyed every moment with his father who told him many stories from the past. The one of which he was most fond off had been the stories of battles and mighty men of old who held back the darkness from the free lands. The love for lore and the things of old had been build up in him over the years of his life.
It came to pass that when Aemornion was 5 years old the course of his life was set by then mockingly ill fortune. It was that on one foul autumn day when it was raining and it looked like the shadow of Mordor had arisen again above the free lands, that their house was under siege and attacked by a remnant of orcs that still remained hidden in that area. His parents hid him in a small locker room that he could lock from inside. Berenion did sound the gondorian horn for distress that he recived from his brother as a gift. The attack was mighty and soon orcs were in the house. His father managed to slay half of them but he fell after he was shot with 3 arrows. Gilwen also slayed 3 orcs but not even she could hold the fort against them dozen. They captured her, beated her to the ground and at last cutted off one of her breasts and taken her as a slave. Soon after it was known that she perished while fighting them but her body was never recovered.
By some ill fortune Aemornion did see all that happened to his parents because he managed to peek out of the locker room and thats why the burden lays more deep within him. Rescue soon came from Henneth Annun for they heard the gondorian horn blowing but it had been too late. Beregond and his men found Aemornion kneeling in a pool of blood beside his fathers' lifeless body. At first they thought that he was also slain for he did not sob or weep, for only they could see had been tears on his expressionless face and his hands clutching his father as if he doesn't want him to slip away. Beregond fell to his knees at once like an arrow struck him. He wept for the loss of his dear brother. Men under his command also had been in shock for they knew Berenion as a good friend and a dear brother in arms. Many battles they fought together and many songs the enjoyed in times of peace. Unfortunately all that was left had been only memories for these events will never happen again.
It came to pass a good moment when Aemornion realized that nothing will bring his parents back. Then he started also to cry. The crying turned into weeping, and weeping into sobbing. Soon his was struck to the ground that the soldiers had to give him medicine for he had gone pale and cold and had been afraid that his soul might be torn out of him.
After the long and painful funeral where many men and women attended years did pass and Aemornion was grim in mind. He felt a bit better when he was in some company, but as soon as he was alone the pain was on his heart again. Beregond as his uncle did take great care of him and soon he was like a father also to him for Berenion and Beregond had been forever alike in act and mind. Bergil, the true son of Beregond was not envy in any way of his cousin because his father spent sometimes more time with Aemornion then with him, but he knew the burden that Aemornion carries and had strong pity for him.
It was when Aemornion was around 10 years old that he had begun his pondering of the future for he decided one day while looking at Beregond ride back with his men clad in full armor and hearing their voices singing mighty songs of old that he will also become one of the mighty soldiers of Gondor and to ride out and find and kill the orcs that slayed his parents. Revenge was soon building in him.
At an age of 15 he started to train combat skills and his uncle did help him mostly in that for he was a skilled fighter like his brother Berenion. Beregond saw what was forming in Aemornion's mind and that did put sadness into his heart. It came to pass that Aemornion showed exceptional combat skills, eventfully developing his own moves of attack and defense and he became an expert in tactics and archery.
At the age of 20 he started riding out with the 4th infantry battalion and later on with the 14th archery division. Days had been peaceful but still there could be found some resistance, but by some chance not within the group that Aemornion was in. Grimnes was on him like never before for he longed for battle and he knew he was ready to face the foe head on.
It came to pass another few years that he was at the age of 25 when he got the fight of which it had been sung all over Gondor. On a early winter day he went out with the 4th infantry consisting of 10 men as an escort to four dwarves from the Misty mountains that had been heading home from a meeting with king Elessar. Their path went near the remnants of the old black gate that had crumbled years ago.
It was getting cold and it was dusk when they had been attacked from an ambush. Over fifty orcs surrounded their camp. The fight was fierce and 4 men of the 4th had fallen in defense. But the rage that had been kindled in Aemornion at the sight, sound and smell of an orc, the same sense that he felt twenty years ago locked in that locker room, was so fierce that orcs did run from the fire in his eyes for he showed no mercy.
He slayed them numbers beyond count and the last orc that remained alive he killed with such passion and force cutting that wretched creature into three pieces. Steam was rising from his body for he was hot and the cold night had come. A grim smile was on his face as he cleaned the blade and nobody, not even his best friend Othar had the courage or heart to ask him anything that day for the fury that hadn't been seen since king Elessar on that same ground where he fought many years ago was still burning in Aemornion.
As they arrived to the Misty mountains the dwarves praised their saviors and mostly Aemornion for their safe return. They gave them gifts and blessing on their way home. The word was before them and when they arrived to the White City they were received by the king and the Prince of Ithilien in person for never was such a resistance found after the War of the Ring. King Elessar personaly thanked Aemornion in saving the Dwarves for they had been of high importance to the realm of Gondor for they are going to help repair Osgiliath and other cities ravaged in the War of the Ring. Life returned back into Aemornion and he was at full strength of mind and body and this cheered up his uncle and his cousin. He was given a nickname by his fellow comrades which was 'Rananimothar' that in the common tongue means 'White Ronin' for he liked to roam alone through the Free Lands.
Unfotunatley that battle did light a 10 year conflict against the orcs on that front where Aemornion stood guard. Since he had been mostly skilled in that territory Aemornion became the main commander of Gondorian troops in that region. His tactical skill he showed at the age of 35 when the enemy stronghold in Morannon was crushed by a fierce strike straight into the heart of the enemy through its backdoor. Aemornion personally did lead the strike force like he did all battles but unfortunetley casualties had been counted. He also got a near-lethal wound if hadn't it been for a healer-maid who turned out that was the sister of Eldarion, the throne-heir of Gondor, for she ride out to bring news from the battlefront in person to the king.
Peace did return again to Gondor and its boarders and Aemornion was praised for his actions. At the age of 40 the king appointed him as being the chief captain of the powerful, legendary and now mighty 4th infantry consisting of over thirty men which he accepted. He still serves in active duty and is considered as one of the best captains after the sons of the last steward of Gondor and their uncle Imrahil. Not long afterwards at the age of 42 fate brought to him more rewards. For offering his life in sacrifice for the good of Gondor and all the Free Lands as a token he became the new wielder of the sacred sword of Ecthelion. The sword of Ecthelion was a double edged long-sword forged long ago by king Calimehtar in the likes of the Kings' sword itself but was of a lesser lineage. The sword passed on from each generation among the Kings and the Stewards alike as a second sword and was also considered as being the sword of the White City itself. The right to wield it have only those from the same Numenorian lineage as its maker. Since the line of the Stewards was broken and the command over the White Tower was returned to the king himself, Lord Elessar passed the Sword of the White City to Aemornion since he had proven as a worthy bearer and was also from the same lineage as had been the wielders of old. Aemornion was also appointed in serving the duty as the new Captain of the White Tower and the chief 1st Battalion of the White City. The last two titles were never used after the death of Boromir the Brave until now. Many older men who had known both the Fallen Captain and Aemornion compared them alike and rumors had been heard that the spirit of Boromir endured in Middle Earth and found a new bearer for be it chance or fate, Aemornion was born on the same day one year after the fall of the Stewards Firstborn. Each year he can be seen pilgriming to the falls of Rauros where on the slopes of Amon Hen a great statue has been brought up in honor of the Captain that is no more. There Aemornion finds peace for he always looked upon him as a man he desired to become ever after he heard the stories of his great deeds.
Also, every time he gets leave he goes to the mound of his father in Dol Amroth where he wished to be buried. For that was the last thing he asked of Aemornion before he hid him in that locker room many years ago.
The present: Discontinued....
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Full Name: Ingold, son of Ohtarion
Race: Human - Numenorean lineage
Nationality: Gondorian (supporter of Eldacar)
Gender: Male
Age: 42
Born: 1390.(Third Age) - Osgiliath
Occupation: Captain of the 42nd Soldier Battalion of Minas Anor
Hair: short-moderate length, dark-hazel. Very short beard.
Eyes: sea-grey
Height: 5'11"
Clothing: Standard on field battle uniform consisting of a dark-maroon tunic with silver threading along the collar line, a half sleeved mail-shirt, dark and enduring breeches, black leather boots, dark-grey diamond shaped vambraces, a leather belt with a silver wrought clip, complete torso armor embossed with the symbol of the white tree across the chest, shoulder and thigh armor plates.
Belongings: A broad, slightly heavy but enduring dark-maroon cape, a sword forged out of folded steel with its black scabbard, a small sharpening stone, a utility knife, one hunting knife, his fathers ring (heirloom of his house).
Expertise: Extremely skilled in swordplay and hand to hand combat without any weapons. A moderate archer. Also has very good tactical and general lore knowledge.
Personality: A stout-hearted and noble person with very good leadership qualities. Rarely shows any "weak" emotions except when driven up against a wall from one person alone. Willing to sacrifice himself for the general good without hesitating and is very protective to the people he loves. Can be considered slightly stubborn in some people's eyes because of his firm recognition towards the goals set in front of him and his will to fill them out at all means necessary. Defends his choices and decisions firmly and will not give in if he sees no logic in the other person's words. Not easily provoked, rather holds the outburst in him but there were records of his outburst with almost lethal casualties. He can be also very kind and warm-hearted when treated with respect and spoken with truth.
History: Not much was recorded of this gondorian and his life. Ingold was the oldest son of Ohtarion and Limweniel. His brother, Maethor, was born a year later. The entire male lineage had been devoted to serving the gondorian army starting off with Otharion's ancestor Merenion when the realm was founded by Elendil and his sons. Merenion proved to be a worthy man and a noble warrior thus being rewarded with the Silver Star of Valour and receiving also a golden ring with a dark-emerald jewel in the eye that was held with the talons of a hawk who had his wings outstretched and forged out of silver. This same ring became the heirloom of Merenion's house and the ring was each time passed on to the eldest son of the house. If there was no son from one of the generations, the ring would be idle in the keepers hand until either he got a grandson or a grand-grandson was born and the ring passed to him and so on.
Ingold was born at the time when Valdacar's son, Eldacar the Half-blooded was also brought to the world by his mother Vidumavi, a woman from the Northern men of Rhovanion. These events caused great unrest throughout Gondor and it split the mighty kingdom into the followers of Eldacar, and those of Castamir. Castamir was the main protagonist in launching the rebellion against Eldacar for he could not tolerate that a Half-blooded Gondorian ruled over the mighty kingdom. Castamir was ever indulged in seeking a way to lengthen the lives of men and to become immortal like the elven kind. The mixing of Gondorian blood and that of some lesser men from the North had loosened rage in him. He was also eager to take the throne seat for himself and to rule over entire Gondor with an iron fist.
It was in the year 1420 of the Third Age when the uproar was starting to take its toll for Valdacar was in his last years as the ruling king and he managed somehow to hold the unavoidable rebellion at bay. Ingold at this year had moved to Minas Anor to join with one of the battalions and to take command over it for he has proven a worthy leader when serving in Osgiliath. The battalion had a modest count of men but over time he came to learn that each of those men were against Castamir and his strong hand. Ingold and these men believed that Gondor was slowly falling into its own decay because of the thriving of its leaders for the ultimate goal of immortality, the one goal their race is not doomed to reach. The boarders had been less and less watched and it could be felt that evil and foulness was creeping with its hand in silence throughout once a mighty kingdom. These men supported Eldacar and the bond between his father Valdacar and Vidumavi for they did not blindly follow Castamir's words even though their own blood was pure, even more purer then that of Eldacar. They also swore their oath to the king that they will not abandon to serve him until he relieves them.
Because of this hatred was brewing in men that supported Castamir for they saw their own kin support the King of the lesser blood. Events soon took an ill toll as the years past.
It was on a dark winter night when Ingold was on patrol with his men up the Anduin that a man came to them clad in grey, hooded but keen and told them that war was about to break loose and that they should get their families safe to the eastern shore of Anduin and up into the fair woods of Ithilien. The men took these words with puzzlement but they felt the silence of the night more then ever before but they heeded them none the less. The year was 1432 of the Third age. Soon Ingold rode towards Osgiliath and just as he passed the bridge he noticed some Men and women were on the streets and commotion was stirred. Fear was in the air. Ingold found his father and mother in their home, Maethor was away and nothing was known where he was. Ohtarion was reluctant to leave but he did it for the safety of his wife and soon they set out in silence out of the city through less watched paths.
The night was starless and nothing could be seen in the pitch night but a strange glow came from the skies that belonged neither to the moon, nor the sun, nor the stars. A shadow was on the South sky and all of a sudden cries and shouts broke out in the city that replaced the commotion. At the outskirts of the city he soon heard a cry calling out his name from the North. It was his brother Maethor that came running to them, worry streaking his eyes. Ohtarion's face was in rage as heard the cries and pleads for mercy and he instructed both of his sons to lead Limweniel to safety as he ran back to the city part where the shouts came from. His tone was commanding and Maethor listened but Ingold could not watch his father go alone and he rushed after him but he was out of sight already s he passed over the Great bridge. That was the last time when Ingold saw his mother and brother and he has not known ever since what has happened to them. Were they slain or are they alive in some refuge well hidden it was not clear.
A few of Castamir's men have waited in secret but now have grown impatient and set of to wage havoc against one of the houses they had been certain was supporting Eldacar and his father. Black haired and grim men begun to slay those of their own kin, Castamir blinded them with the greed for an almost immortal life and kindled hatred with ease against those who opposed him. The hearts of men were corrupted by their own weakness.
Ingold ran through the streets in search of his father. The heavy clinging of swords could be heard in the direction he ws running and suddenly he perceived a shouting yell that froze his heart not far away from him. He heard the color and the tone of that shout before, but it was warm and pleasant back then when its owner was merry and laughed with his two sons. Now it was willed with dread and pain. Ingold stumbled through the streets and came out into the court with many slain men around him, most of them grim faced and filled with wretch but he beheld two men in the middle and two children hunched in the corner held by either their older sister or mother. One man was swooping high above, tall and menacing, the other one was on his knees clutching for his bleeding chest but facing bravely his opponent while holding the sword hilt still tight in his hand. Ingold perceived his father on his knees, the fair and noble face was now drenched with blood and bruises and alit under the pale light from the lanterns of the street. Ohtarion ran to help those people against whom the silent strike was set in the gloom of the night. Ingold lost all sense for time as he rushed towards the grim man swooping above his father. In all his rage and fear or his father he did not even draw his sword but he jumped heavy on the opponent and tackled him down to the ground. Ingold was of a stout built and strong was his body and arms. The opponent did not expect the attack and was taken by surprise but before he could take any action, Ingold's heavy fist found its way to his head once he was on the ground. The scull shattered like a tin cup against an anvil and a hammer for the ground was of stone and Ingold's fist was of fury. He stood up after his revenge and dropped by his father's side who had fallen on the ground.
Ohtarion was spent and all blood left his body and thus he passed away. Ingold clutched for his father limp body with enemy's blood damped hands and tears stained with dirt slid down his face. The woman and her children ran away in fear. With a heavy and shattered heart he carried the body under the bridge that was not far away and there set it in a small boat and cast it loose down the current. Swift anger was in his eyes as he came back to the place of his father's last stand. There he beheld the slain men, the shouting lessened. The light from the lantern lessened and was dim but Ingold perceived a slight shimmer in the hand of the man he had slain. He knelt down and opened his clutching hand against a valuable item. The item was well known to Ingold. It was his fathers ring. The shrill gold soaked with fresh crimson blood shimmered as he took the ring from the enemies grasp and the dark red jewel could be almost thought it was glowing under the pale amber light and thus lighting the blood spattered on it. With trembling hands Ingold cast the ring on his finger like it was. He did not wish to rinse or to clean off what was the only thing left of his father, a few drops of his noble blood. The same blood that flows through Ingold's veins itself. No man set foot even close among that court where the slaying happened for the tension was high in the air and any disturbance from either the followers of Castamir or those that remain true to Eldacar would set out an avalanche of blood and death that stood on the edge of a blade.
He stumbled to his feet and went about to find men loyal to Eldacar and his dieing father, fury was in his eyes as the sword unsheathed from its dark scabbard glinted in the ever fading light, his hand clutched the hilt fiercely.
After a moment he found a few of his men that have also returned from the Eastern boarders of Gondor and Ithilien after they brought their families to safety but none of them saw either Maethor nor Limweniel. Grim was Ingold in that time and forever he will be until he finds his brother or the woman that gave birth to both of them. After scouring through the north-estern parts of the city, Ingold and his men took refuge back in the fair woods of Ithilien from where they overlook the city and hope for ending of the great strife. They walk now in secret, hooded and masked under the shadow of the moon throughout the city in searching of those loyal to Eldacar.
Where was the lord at this time, it was not known or was he alive or not. Was the old king still alive or has he drawn his last breath it was not certain at all. Information stopped flowing. Hope was in the hearts of men loyal to him and Eldacar and Ingold counted as a noble soldier ready to give his own life for the benefit of even one person alone.
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Full Name: Dagonet, son of Damrod
Race: Human
Nationality: Gondorian
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Born: 11.(Forth Age) - Blackroot Vale (Gondor)
Occupation: Leader of the 5th Archery division of Minas Tirith
Hair: moderate length, light brown. Clean shaven.
Eyes: green
Height: 6'3"
Clothing: Basic military clothing of the gondorian soldiers consisting of a black tunic with a high collar, full length mail-shirt, black pants with approptiate boots, dark-green vambraces and a same colored belt. Also wears light torso armor when on the field
Belongings: A black cape with a silver outline, a shorter sword with an appropriate scabbard, a long-range Blackroot bow, a quiver with 25 white feathered arrows and two throwing daggers.
Expertise: Highly experienced and lethal archer. Many times he was compared with the skill of the elven kind even. Good at swordplay skills.
Personality: Very kind hearted and has a rather cheerful personality but he can be somewhat enclosed into himself with his feelings. Has good leadership qualities, but he feels more comfortable in the position of a follower then of a leader. He proved to be wise in the lore of the old and many times he can be seen enjoying rather a book then the usual activities in spare time. Still, the love for the lore does not make him a weaker person in body, on the contrary, he proved to be sure in his decisions and rarely was it seen that his spirit crumbled or his hand shook under a burden.
History: Dagonet was born in a one of the villages in Blackroot Vale some ten years after the end of the War of the Ring. His father, Damrod, was a highly skilled craftsman and mostly he was praised as one of the best bow makers in the southern parts of Gondor. Damrod also served the gondorian forces for many long years but after being heavily wounded on the battlefront he had to retire. The retirement was against his will for he enjoyed his time with the comrades he had but since any further injuries to him might be lethal, he was persuaded by the superiors. Dagonet's mother was Amariel, a noble daughter from the coastal regions of Anfalas and a very crafty lady alike. Dagonet had one older sister whose name is unknown and an older brother named Brandir who also serves the armies of Gondor but under a different battalion.
Dagonet's passion for archery was most likely handed down from generation to generation for the entire line of his ancestors was devoted to the noble warfare art. It became a costum for the men (and women sometimes, but more for leisure) that they become one with the bow and arrow and thus Blackroot Vale provided Gondor with the best archers for many lives of men and always had been highly praised.
At the age of 21 years, after developing his combat skills with the help of his older brother, Dagonet joined the 14th Archery division. High quality he proved in the later years while moving over to serve under the 4th Infantry battalion. Days continued to flow but soon he was put to a pressure that laid most burden on him. It was early spring and he ventured along with a few of his comrades towards the Northern parts of Ithilien. Their task was to patrol the outskirts for any travelers that might enter the land and guide them safely at least to the Great River or the island of Cair Andros. Indeed those days were peaceful and rare travelers ventured to and from the land. As a bright day slowly fell and the night was creeping in, Dagonet and his comrades set preparations for the evening meal. They had plenty of cram with them, the gondorian way bread, and dried fruits, however since it was their last day on patrol they desired for a more plentiful dinner. A stag was on the menu and Dagonet, being the best archer in the company set out to hunt the rightful prize for the men. Darkness fell for a good part and the stars were in the clear sky shinning like silver drops. He didn't have to venture far into the deep wood for the forests were rich with animals and soon he found his target. With a careful step and a knocked arrow he approached closer to the young stag that lingered close to the bushes grazing. Unfortunately just as he placed his pre-last step a dry twig snapped under his weight. Swiftly the stag feeling the danger close by bolted off deeper into the wood.
Meanwhile, back at the camp the rest of the men prepared the fire and set a stew ready. The night was peaceful and they raised their voices into a slow humming of a song they loved to sing in their spare time. However the singing stopped at once. A burdensome cry came from the night and a younger woman came rushing towards them hearing their voices and seeing the light of the fire. Her face was pale, her clothes stained and she was in panic. She lost her daughter in the early morning hours as they ventured through the forest gathering mushrooms and couldn't find her the whole day. The men somehow managed to calm her down for a bit and they promised they will help her seek. The woman thanked them deeply and soon they have spread out through the night.
Dagonet reluctant to leave the prey free abroad followed the stag. The night was dark and the only light that was given under the thick leaves of the forest was from the moon. Not a while longer, he found the stag once again slowly walking away into the thick bushes. He had no time to waste and he knocked the arrow ready. Dagonet had good sight in the dark but this time he had to rely mostly on the sound. Swiftly the bow sung and the thick arrow flew across the air and found its target. However the stag was a rather big example and the first arrow did not slay him but only wounded it heavily. The animal staggered and jumped around and suddenly a shrill cry went out as the stag dropped onto a bush. The cries did not stop and they filled the air freezing it along with Dagonet's heart. He dropped the bow and rushed towards the place where the cries were heard. His eyes widened and his face was in shock what he saw. The pierced stag crashed into a young girl who was hiding in the bushes. The beast fell then on the girl with the arrow and drove the same one into the girl's belly ripping it as the stag gave off the few final kicks. Dagonet with all his strength managed to pull down the dead stag off the girl who was bleeding heavily. He fell in awe and while lifting the small girl with one hand he held his other clasped on the little child's bleeding belly as he rushed back to the camp. Swiftly his comrades rushed to him for they heard the cries and they were also in shock. The mother at the sight of her wounded child fell unconscious and would have hit the ground heavy if one of the men didn't grab her in time. They fought for the life of the young girl but to no avail. Her soft bones were broken and deeply buried into her own flesh severing most of the vital organs. The little child passed away on Dagonet's arms as he still held the now blood soaked hand against her torso. He wept for the first time in his life then, wept for the life of a young child that was in his eyes slain by his hand.
In the following days, weeks, months and years even, Dagonet was grim in mind and body. He could not forgive himself for the act done. The incident was classified as an accident and even the mother of the child did not hold scorn against the man for she saw Dagonet's face many times later on. Slowly he begun to recover from the accident and strength and security was in his hand once again after a long time. His determination and security in his deeds brought him certain rewards in the end. At the time Dagonet is the second commander of the 4th battalion of Minas Tirith and the chief archery leader of the Royal Guard of the King himself. Not long ago he took command over the 5th archery division and leads a group of 15 most lethal archers of Gondor. Their skill was known throughout the free lands.
