Post by Warmaster Nothius on May 3, 2006 6:02:32 GMT
Out of Character
Username: aelwyn
Other Accounts? List the Username and Corrisponding Character: Negetive.
In Character
Name: Nothius of Rhûn.
Age: Twenty-two, among the reckoning of men.
Sex: Male.
Race: Human; Easterling.
Job: Warmaster of Rhûn. Commander of the Armies of the East.
Plot: Nothus wishes for nothing less than total victory, the destruction of the week, simple-minded fools that reign in Minas Tirith, and for the name and the terror of Rhûn to be on the lips of every man, woman, and child who so foolishly claim to be “free”.
Personality: Nothius believes himself to be the perfect embodiment of the warrior spirit, he is a man driven only by battle. Victory, or death. He has no aspirations towards rule, or to conquering, only towards war and the shedding of the blood of his enemies. The so called ’honor’ of the men of Gondor holds no attraction to Nothius, vain chivalry and pompous ceremony are things that he shies away from. He believes that only in war can true honor be shown, and only by giving death to those too weak to find it by their own hand.
Reckless and wild and undoubtedly brave, with little respect for those who would ‘command’ him, Nothius is, in everyway, a firebrand. From his lack of respect stems an attitude of general disdain. He hates his enemies with a matchless passion, and he is sickened by chivalrous manners, which he views as little better than a thinly veiled cowardice.
History: Nothius was sired by one of the seven Warlords of Rhun, thus, his life is the epitome of warfare. His training in arms began as soon as he had learned toddle; weapons were constantly in use in the house of his father. Daily his father would take him to the pits to watch ravenous wolves tear into each other, and often he would be led to the Monolith of Karakorum to witness the execution of his father’s enemies.
As familiar as the din of bloodshed and battle came to be to Nothius, nothing was more poignant than the code of honor which his father drilled into him from the day he was born. Victory or death. And as the boy grew, his love and understanding of the code grew as well. So it was that his instruction of arms continued, and he grew into a mighty son of Rhun, who’s match was rarely seen in the land.
It was about this time, around the festival of his coming of age, that his Warmaster and father announced that Sauron had once again called for the might of Rhun to carry the banner of the Dark Lord into the far west of Middle Earth. The armies of Rhun marshaled…but Nothius was not to be reckoned among the warriors who would travel to win glory for Rhun, he was to remain at home and protect those too weak to protect themselves.
These were the days that he always looked upon with shame, a cowardly duty, protecting the elderly and infirmed, and for a time he contemplated taking his own life. Better to be dead then to be denied the glories or war.
Fortunately the defeat of Sauron breathed new life into the boy. The scattered, bedraggled scraps of the armies of Rhun began to trickle back into the land. All of the men who had been to cowardly to face their death’s returned to the land of their fathers, and they returned in shame. Nothius was furious. Victory or death, there was no compromise.
Worse, his own father returned and resumed his rule of the land, as if nothing had happened; desperately the people of Rhun tried to sweep away any mention of the defeat…and any notion of punishing the rabble. To Nothius it was like a sword had been thrust into his innards; all that he had ever been taught was treated like a commonplace attitude, something that could be discarded at will.
Finally he could stand it no further, he killed his father, assumed the mantle of the Warmaster, and swept the land of the weakness that had become its plague. Now, with the ranks of his horde swelled by the youth of the land, Nothius marches forth against the accursed men of Gondor. Victory or death.
Family: Dead…they’re all dead.
Appearance: As his entire life has been spent in the pursuit of all things warlike, he is in peak physical condition. He stands a little over six feet, and is as tough as wrought iron. Personal appearance, or physical attraction for that matter, are nothing to him. His hair is dark and stringy, his eyes a deep brown, and his features are very sharp. But for the most part he remains ensconced in his armour, obscured from the rest of the world.
Role Playing Sample: The crimson banners fluttered in the arid desert wind, splaying out against the backdrop of a swiftly approaching night. The burning summer sun was just beginning to settle behind the hills, and the faint shadows of dawn had descended on the column, obscuring the companies ahead.
Nothius tugged against the leather reigns of his war chariot, and allowed a thin smile to slip onto his face. The two sweat flecked charges neighed loudly as their hooves thundered against the hardpan desert, and then came to a stop. Nothius’ smile lingered for a moment, and a wave of admiration passed over him; the men of the East had managed to keep formation, despite twelve hours of forced marches and failing light.
His hand strayed to the hilt of the intricately carved halberd that rested against the gilded edges of his chariot, as if to reassure himself that it was still there. Nothius slid an armored gauntlet along the cold, dull grey edge and smiled grimly. “You have long since been stained with the blood of mine enemies, old friend. Soon you shall taste the blood of the men of Gondor.”
I aelwyn agree to the Proboards EULA and the rules of this board. I understand that breaking these rules may result in my account being banned and that what is seen as "breaking the rules" is the Administrator's discretion.
Username: aelwyn
Other Accounts? List the Username and Corrisponding Character: Negetive.
In Character
Name: Nothius of Rhûn.
Age: Twenty-two, among the reckoning of men.
Sex: Male.
Race: Human; Easterling.
Job: Warmaster of Rhûn. Commander of the Armies of the East.
Plot: Nothus wishes for nothing less than total victory, the destruction of the week, simple-minded fools that reign in Minas Tirith, and for the name and the terror of Rhûn to be on the lips of every man, woman, and child who so foolishly claim to be “free”.
Personality: Nothius believes himself to be the perfect embodiment of the warrior spirit, he is a man driven only by battle. Victory, or death. He has no aspirations towards rule, or to conquering, only towards war and the shedding of the blood of his enemies. The so called ’honor’ of the men of Gondor holds no attraction to Nothius, vain chivalry and pompous ceremony are things that he shies away from. He believes that only in war can true honor be shown, and only by giving death to those too weak to find it by their own hand.
Reckless and wild and undoubtedly brave, with little respect for those who would ‘command’ him, Nothius is, in everyway, a firebrand. From his lack of respect stems an attitude of general disdain. He hates his enemies with a matchless passion, and he is sickened by chivalrous manners, which he views as little better than a thinly veiled cowardice.
History: Nothius was sired by one of the seven Warlords of Rhun, thus, his life is the epitome of warfare. His training in arms began as soon as he had learned toddle; weapons were constantly in use in the house of his father. Daily his father would take him to the pits to watch ravenous wolves tear into each other, and often he would be led to the Monolith of Karakorum to witness the execution of his father’s enemies.
As familiar as the din of bloodshed and battle came to be to Nothius, nothing was more poignant than the code of honor which his father drilled into him from the day he was born. Victory or death. And as the boy grew, his love and understanding of the code grew as well. So it was that his instruction of arms continued, and he grew into a mighty son of Rhun, who’s match was rarely seen in the land.
It was about this time, around the festival of his coming of age, that his Warmaster and father announced that Sauron had once again called for the might of Rhun to carry the banner of the Dark Lord into the far west of Middle Earth. The armies of Rhun marshaled…but Nothius was not to be reckoned among the warriors who would travel to win glory for Rhun, he was to remain at home and protect those too weak to protect themselves.
These were the days that he always looked upon with shame, a cowardly duty, protecting the elderly and infirmed, and for a time he contemplated taking his own life. Better to be dead then to be denied the glories or war.
Fortunately the defeat of Sauron breathed new life into the boy. The scattered, bedraggled scraps of the armies of Rhun began to trickle back into the land. All of the men who had been to cowardly to face their death’s returned to the land of their fathers, and they returned in shame. Nothius was furious. Victory or death, there was no compromise.
Worse, his own father returned and resumed his rule of the land, as if nothing had happened; desperately the people of Rhun tried to sweep away any mention of the defeat…and any notion of punishing the rabble. To Nothius it was like a sword had been thrust into his innards; all that he had ever been taught was treated like a commonplace attitude, something that could be discarded at will.
Finally he could stand it no further, he killed his father, assumed the mantle of the Warmaster, and swept the land of the weakness that had become its plague. Now, with the ranks of his horde swelled by the youth of the land, Nothius marches forth against the accursed men of Gondor. Victory or death.
Family: Dead…they’re all dead.
Appearance: As his entire life has been spent in the pursuit of all things warlike, he is in peak physical condition. He stands a little over six feet, and is as tough as wrought iron. Personal appearance, or physical attraction for that matter, are nothing to him. His hair is dark and stringy, his eyes a deep brown, and his features are very sharp. But for the most part he remains ensconced in his armour, obscured from the rest of the world.
Role Playing Sample: The crimson banners fluttered in the arid desert wind, splaying out against the backdrop of a swiftly approaching night. The burning summer sun was just beginning to settle behind the hills, and the faint shadows of dawn had descended on the column, obscuring the companies ahead.
Nothius tugged against the leather reigns of his war chariot, and allowed a thin smile to slip onto his face. The two sweat flecked charges neighed loudly as their hooves thundered against the hardpan desert, and then came to a stop. Nothius’ smile lingered for a moment, and a wave of admiration passed over him; the men of the East had managed to keep formation, despite twelve hours of forced marches and failing light.
His hand strayed to the hilt of the intricately carved halberd that rested against the gilded edges of his chariot, as if to reassure himself that it was still there. Nothius slid an armored gauntlet along the cold, dull grey edge and smiled grimly. “You have long since been stained with the blood of mine enemies, old friend. Soon you shall taste the blood of the men of Gondor.”
I aelwyn agree to the Proboards EULA and the rules of this board. I understand that breaking these rules may result in my account being banned and that what is seen as "breaking the rules" is the Administrator's discretion.