[Kransha]

This guy should do as a guard.
If this is accepted, I will retract my other character, officially

Character Description Form:

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – No

How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in? None

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – Yes, the Green Dragon

NAME: Verthinor

AGE: 45

RACE: Man of Pelargir, Lebennin

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Average short spear, gilded short-sword with an inscription on it and and two silver eagles carved into the crossguard and a single piece of mithril in the pommel; a gift from a Gondorian noble who he did a service to some years ago, and a standard round Gondor shield with the heraldic device of Elendil upon it. Also has a simpler iron shield, with no emblem, brown and green.

APPEARANCE: Has a grey-black beard, very short, and short hair as well. He was once tall and is technically still tall, but he has since been physically dwarfed by the new Citadel Guards. He is surprisingly fast for his age, but not strong or healthy enough. He often tries to hide his age in whatever way possible, but his habit of consistent coughing hinders that. He has hazel eyes and a pale-skinned face.

As a Citadel Guard of Minas Tirith, he wears the traditional garb and armor fitting that role: A tight-fitting helmet with white bird’s wings carved on the top, a black robe with the emblem if Elendil, a white tree beneath a silver star and crown (Note: Only Citadel Guards can wear that emblem), and a silver chain mail hauberk for general protection.

When disguised to prevent anyone from knowing his position, he would keep the hauberk, but retire the use of his helmet and robe, instead taking up the more common bronze helmet and brown leather tunic that his father owned. He might also dismiss his Citadel Guard shield for a generic shield, just to look common enough for the role.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Vernithor is one of the most conservative and law-abiding of the Citadel Guards, even though all of them are so. He is a bit grizzled, but still friendly and ever-ready. He is sometimes caught off guard and very touchy about any mention of Gondor’s nobility or royalty. His strength lies in his experience and cunning, but his conservative views and strictness sometimes get out of hand. He also has a quick temper, which is an irritating weakness for him, a person who considers himself beyond temper tantrums.

HISTORY:
Born before the War of the Ring, Verthinor was raised on sailor’s stories in Pelargir. His father was a mercenary and soldier of Lebennin who joined the army of Gondor during the Ring War alongside his son. Vernithor’s father was killed in Osgiliath while Verthinor himself was posted at Minas Tirith to defend. For his bravery and actions supporting Gondor years before, he’d been honored with the position of Citadel Guard of Minas Tirith. He fought during the Battle of Pelennor Fields and was thought dead by his mother back in Pelargir, who succumbed to grief before she learned the truth.

After the war, Verthinor remained a Citadel Guard, becoming one of the older members of the group. He often tells stories and ballads to the younger guards about Gondor’s glory, but they have stopped listening. Know Verthinor simply does his duty, hoping for a chance to win back the favor of Minas Tirith’s new generation and prove that he isn’t just a relic of the Third Age.
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Kransha's post

Verthinor tore off his tall, close-fitting helmet and tucked it under his right arm as he walked almost aimlessly across the smooth white stones of Minas Tirith’s seventh level courtyard, sitting below the looming pinnacle of Ecthelion’s Tower. He stopped for a minute in his pacing to look up at the termination point of that tower and listened intently. At the exact moment he’d expected it, he heard the sound he was waiting for. The delicately crafted bell that hung aloft in the spire chimed firmly. Verthinor had stood in front of that tower for so long that he had the precise timing of that chime emblazoned in his mind. It was one of those strange routine idiosyncrasies that he’d picked up after years in the service.

He walked on, taking another passing glance at the intricate beauties of the White Tree of Gondor that stood before him in the Court of the Fountain. Just as everything else in the area, he’d nearly memorized every twisting, gently arching, gnarled branch of the tree so that he could’ve drawn a more accurate picture than any of the King’s scribes or tapestry-makers, if he had more artistic ability to speak of. He turned as nimbly as a middle-aged man could on his heels and stood, very still, contemplating.

It had been many years since he’d felt the warmth of combat, the excitement of battle. He chided himself mentally for thinking these thoughts. He knew there was no warmth or glorious fire in combat, only the cold sting of death. He knew that cold well, but he had forgotten its caustic bite. Now all that was left for him was yearning for another chance to feel that fire. What use was he to Gondor standing in front of a tree?

Again he scolded himself, more harshly. He was a Citadel Guard, a valued title for any warrior of Gondor, and a position he should be honored to fill. Yet, he still desired the feel of his sword twirling like a whirlwind in his hand, though he could no longer wield the blade as aptly as he had years ago. He knew how foolish it would be to give up such a position to go seek a fool’s adventure and a few more ounces of glory for a nation that needed none, but he could not resolve to continue standing in front of that tree, in the courtyard, listening for that chime every daylight hour.

There were no other guards on watch at the citadel. If he left, he might well be punished for leaving the doors of the great hall unattended, but he could not find a reason to stay within him. He would return as soon as he’d found an adequate retreat and tell the Guard Captain of his plan. Hopefully, after whatever use he found for himself was fulfilled, he would accepted back into his former role and resume his duty, with the satisfaction of knowing that he still had the fire within him.

He headed out of the Court of the Fountain, looking for adventure and muttering some random words to the tune of an old song he knew.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:32 AM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]