Kinship => Kinship In-Character Discussion => Topic started by: Belegcrist on November 05, 2007, 01:20:58 PM

Title: Belegcrist's background
Post by: Belegcrist on November 05, 2007, 01:20:58 PM
The wind that whispers like sharp-point daggers of ice through the cracks and chinks in the inn-walls is cold and prying, but the fire before me is hot and my pint is stout.  I think it is a night to write, to empty the turbulence of my mind onto the parchment.

I was born in the year 2974 of this age, in the land of Dol Amroth in Gondor, the eldest son of Turin of Gondor and his wife, the most beautiful lady Luthien.  My sire was a great warrior, but he was harsh and unflowery in his language and poor at courting favour with greater men, uninterested in the stewardship of his lands, and so we came to have precious few benefactors and little wealth. 

In my twenty-first year I rode to the city to pay homage to the Prince.  In an inn in that city, a drunken son of a great house provoked me with a sneer at my family's poverty and my father's ineptitude.  In a black rage fueled by pride and drink, I struck him between the ear and eye with my mug, with such force that it shattered both skull and vessel on the impact.  I fled, and my father harbored me.

Because he would not give me over to them, there commenced a bitter feud between the two houses, with much crop-burning and raiding done by both, and though they had twice our numbers, they could not break us, but neither could we them.  Many perished on both sides, my father chief among the slain, until after two years at feud I could bear it no longer.  I gathered what kin and retainers were left us, some twenty in number, and rode to their hall, to end it, or be ended.  With sword and spear and brand we slew and burned until dawn crept up in the east and lit a dread landscape.  Their house was ended, slain to the last man, but my house fared little better.  Of the men that rode with me, eight yet breathed when the sun rose, and of those, three would not last until nightfall.  The rest, knowing that the Prince would surely come for us now, scattered to the winds.

My brother, Beleghast, and I rode west and north, through the land where the south road once was, across many rivers and streams and between tall snow-capped mountains, until after some months we found ourselves in the land of Bree.  With no coin for bread or lodging, but swords and mail aplenty, we hired ourselves out to any man that had a need for us, and many's the desperate act we did in those wild lands.

In the year 3011 my brother, a small band of sellswords, and I, found ourselves in pursuit of an elusive band of brigands.  We pursued them to the eaves of the Misty Mountains, until one night as we made camp, feeling sure that we would catch them on the morrow, a band of orcs roaved out from the mountains and waylaid us.  We fought them off, but at what cost!  Four were dead, two were carried off, my brother speared through the hip and back, and my arm near cut in two and my face gashed from forehead to cheek.  We wandered south, fading with each step, until, after I had ceased knowing, a party of elves came upon us and found us asleep and very close to death.  They brought us to Rivendell, a place few mortals have seen, and healed us for some months. 

I had not known elves before that day, but in spite of the frivolity they cloaked themselves in, I found them to be wise and strong.  When we were healed, we left Rivendell, but always we remembered the elves.