Name: Hjalma Koivu
Race: Human (Lossoth)
Items:
1. Whalebone Harpoon/ Crafted from the ocean creatures that provide the Lossoth their main source of sustenance, the Whalebone harpoon cannot be called a spear in any sense of the word-it is massive, and designed to be thrown with enough force to punch through a whales thick blubber, muscle and gristle-and cause them grievious bleeding wounds. It is a weapon that is easily adapted to war-especially against Saurons Trollish forces, who have come to fear the slow agony that comes from the sting of the Lossoth in the dead of winter...
What worth can chill stone and dead metal be to any? They can provide a man with neither food nor warmth...
2. Lossoth Fur Armor/ This common Lossoth garb is composed of a variety of heavy pelts, gathered from the bounty of the frozen North...it can still turn aside blade and arrow shaft with ease, and it is comfortable and protects the wearer against foulness of all sorts-both natural, and supernatural.
They know the snows but they are as simple as children in so many ways...
Attributes:
Strength 2
Knowledge 1
Agility 1
Toughness 3
Recuperation. 3
...For in summer his power wanes; but now his breath is deadly, and his cold arm is long...
Bio: Hjalma Koivu was a Lossoth hunter, living in the frosted tranquility of his homeland in the Far North-secluded, for the most part, from the wars and troubles of the South. Sauron's emissaries often visited-offering gold, metal and the blood of the South, for past crimes against them...but, unlike some people of Middle Earth, they did not heed the black speech, and cast his messengers back-impaled on harpoons more often then not. So, therein was sown Saurons anger toward them, and ever after would he seek to break their stubborn will through fear and force of arms.
Before, Sauron's forces did not often brave the wastes, when there was richer pickings to be found elsewhere...and yet, as if he could stand the thought of leaving any of those who resisted him unmolested, even the smallest and weakest, His forces mustered every eve of Winter to assault the North-and every year the assualts got larger and more ferocious-and every year, more brave young Lossoth men and women perished to keep the Orcs, Trolls and Swarthy men from desecrating their beloved homeland. They found no respite-for, the Necromancer often was fond of using his magics to blacken the sky with horrible storms, battering their humble homes and tiny ships, delighting in their fear and inability to retalitate. The hardy men of the Lossoth shouldered the burden, and rebuilt all that he destroyed, while cursing the Necromancers name and shaking their fists at the sky.
A certain fear had crept through the Lossoth people, as the Enemies power grew-for, they are children of the frozen wastes, sundered from their Human kin in all ways. No one could be called upon to help them in these dire times-not Man, nor Elf kin, nor Dwarf Brother.
A prophecy of dire portent was fortold. 'I smell death on the Wind. The Lossoth people will not survive the next five summers. We shall be driven down, beaten, cowed. Unless...the One...we need...his name...Hjalma Koivu. He will die, resisting the enemy. And his death will be the salvation of our people. Send him South. Hurry.'
It was into this conflict, that young man named Hjalma was thrust. He did not question any this fate-merely shouldered his harpoon and armor and began walking South, not bothering to even say goodbye. For, he is already dead. His family has held his funerary rites, and he shall not return in his life. But, he has vowed to not go down without a fight.
Special power: Heroic Endurance/ As a proud Lossoth, Hjalma can withstand hardship and injury that would slay the hardiest Southern man on his feet.
...a great storm of wind arose, and came with blinding snow out of the North...
Author
Topic: Roll To Rule Middle Earth. Signups closed, you may sign up for replacement. (Read 6313 times)