Thread:The Second Age Server/@comment-118.200.29.137-20170105143715

IGN: Spess_Mahren

Race: Man.

Faction: Harhawrim.

Roleplay experience: I've played on TOS and hARDA. (Played for a while on TOS, a little time on hARDA.) I've read most of the Silmarillion and the Return of the King, and I've seen the three movies.

Character name: Gerion Horvald.

Role: King of the Harhawrim.

Gerion was a member of House Horvald, a clan of mighty warriors that wielded great influence in the past, but in Gerion's day the house was a mere shadow of it's former self. They eked out a pathetic existence as farmers in the shadow of a great mountain. Gerion was but a boy when the day that would change his existence forever came.

Gerion was playing on the slopes of the mountain with his brother, Aduvar, when a great cry and clamour came from the direction of the village. He and his brother rushed to the village, only to find a great horde of orcs celebrating and feasting on the flesh of those he called kin. The image was seared into his mind forever, an image he would never forget throughout his long life.

The young boy and his brother then fled for their lives, through hill and dale, through bough and leaf, until Aduvar with a sigh, collapsed with exhaustion. When Gerion, shocked and confused, knelt to help him, the only words he said in a voice not entirely his own were "Avenge us, scion of Horvald.". Aduvar died.

Gerion wept and wept, until tears would come no more, and he rose to his feet, and walked in a shuffle, when all went black, and he entered sweet, sweet oblivion.

He was woken by a kindly old woman, a member of a clan of nomadic mercenaries. She raised him as her son, and he grew tall and fierce, and eventually came into leadership of the mercenaries. He learned the ways of the bow and the axe, and was an accomplished warrior. He performed many feats, and his renown grew through South Rhovanion. One cold winter's day, Gerion's motley band discovered a horrific scene in the snow. A band of orcs had butchered a party of men, and were rejoicing in the carnage. This was all too familiar to Gerion, and a red haze settled over his mind and with a wild cry he and his men charged the orcs. When the red haze was lifted from his mind, he found himself alone, standing in a field littered with corpses, both of his men and the enemy's. He heard a low moan beside him, and knelt down, to see the king of the Harhawrim, Nerethar, battered and barely alive. "Ye, Gerion of Horvald, who has avenged the deaths of my sons and the death of the royal blood, will receive his reward." He gasped, "Take my crown and go the the capital, for ye are the king now, and I and my sons shall sleep with our ancestors." Nerethar died.With a heavy heart Gerion took the king's crown, and journeyed to the capital, where the king's death was mourned, and Gerion was crowned as king of the Harhawrim. Features: He's very tall, and has striking blue eyes. He has hair as black as a corsair's heart, and his crown is an ancient dwarven helmet jeweled and lined with fair mithril. 