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Amduilin

Amduilin

Name Amduilin
Status
Active
Occupation
Sword for Hire, Mercenary
Age
Rather young
Race
Man
Residence
She's renting a room at the Prancing Pony, as it stands
Kinship
Nada
Outward Appearance

You see, this dark girl is something not entirely ordinary in the Northern Lands. Even though she seems to mainly reside in Bree and its surroundings, her slighty ebony skin and coal-black hair quickly gives away that she is not a local. Her eyes, emerald green with just a tad of grey, tell of a wisdom and mysticism unknown even to herself. She’d seemingly be about the average heigh of a Northern female, sporting 5’5” (about 168 cm), making this her perhaps most ordinary feature; for in stance and aura, she stood out, bearing herself with a certain pride and elegance matched by few, except for those of Elven descent, and she’d cast off an aura of a certain wisdom - even if that aura would not necessarily be matched by the words she uttered.

 

Her face was long and fair, her cheekbones defined. A scar, deep and brightly coloured, would adorn her right cheek, stretching from the bottom of her eyes well towards her nostril. And then of course, there was her nasal features: Whilst most women, especially of the North, tended to have somewhat long and defined noses, hers would be short. The ridge of her nose not the linear kind found with the locals, but rather a wildly descending curve, broad from the front, a feature also found when examining her nostrils. Her hair was black as coal, short and curly, even bordering on rugged. And unlike the thin, almost fairee-like hair of Northern women, it was thick - almost as thick as the wool of a sheep.

 

Moving further down, her body would also seem notable to the typical locals, as it was not what most women in the lands were gifted with. If stripped naked, one would find a body at once well-defined and muscular, but still formly. For it was curvier than the standard Northerner’s, except for her bosom. Albeit she was not flat-chested, her breasts would be smaller than the norm; something she made up for further down, with hips broader and a butt both bigger and rounder, giving her a tremendously hourglassed figure. Her legs were seemingly strong and well-trained, muscles visibly showing, and a thigh that was big, not only from natural curves, but also from excessive, muscular exercise. Along her body, scars would be visibly showing, even several upon her back, closely together; quite possibly the work of a whip.

 

She wore the apparel of a traveller. Upon her head would be a leather hat, worn and weathered from many a day spent outside, even in the wilderness. Its original colour had now all but faded away, nothing but a greyish soup of bleakness and weather stains remaining. She’d protect her body from harm with what seemed like a leathery coat, almost metallishly grey in its colour and reinforced with mail in several places, the chest and arms included, and it would reach down to about her knees; it did not seem to be a product of it being too big for her, however, as it fitted the rest of her body perfectly, tight enough as to not hinder her movement, and loose enough as to still be rather comfortable. Like any other seasoned warrior or sword fighter, she’d have opted to defend her shoulders, and in length, her body, from upper attacks, with a set of thick leather pads protecting both of her shoulders, bound together by an array of brown and green fabric, creating seven starred strips hanging down from her right shoulder pad.

 

On her hip hang a black belt, several pouches attached to it, as well as a pipe, small and spartan in its design, yet of a fine craftsmanship (upon travelling outside of town, that pipe would move from her belt to her backpack, for safer package). Attached to her belt were also several vials; giving off the notion that she knew her alchemy well enough, and would, in a fight, prefer to stack the cards in her own favour. Another belt, of a seemingly similar make, also moved abeam her body, from her left shoulder to just over the right part of her hip; on it was attached a scabbard hanging by her back, from it hanging a great sword of impressive make; the blade of the sword itself acting as the wristguard, the steel finer than even the finest dwarven crafts. Lastly, there were her boots, probably the most common piece of her outfit, seeing as they were simply made of pale leather and worn, having seen no rest for years upon end.

Background

[In one of the smaller, cheaper rooms of the Prancing Pony, a piece of parchment would lay upon the floor. It was infested with winemarks, ink spills and other such monstrosities, and on it were written, in a rather hideous handwriting, the following words:]

 

You see, different people act differently. Some people shiver in the face of danger. Some go very seriously about such things. And then others, like this girl Amduilin, crack jokes along the way. They talk along the way. Sometimes just words that have no meaning, that are not meant to provide any useful input: Rather words meant to drown the silence.

 

[Following that paragraph were several other attempts at an introduction, all crossed out. Further down the page, it continues.]

 

Now, some people might wonder whether that would make the girl an effective mercenary or bounty hunter. After all, when trying to take down a target, especially with a group, the last thing one would want is for that target to hear you, notice you. Nor is it in anyone’s interest to have the mercenary spill a contract. And whilst she loves to talk, she’s professional. She’s been in that certain area of operation, or at least heavily affiliated with it, for almost a decade now. She knows her way around; after all, blunders in this field are usually met with a swift and sudden death.

 

Splendid. But what about her abilities? After all, one person can’t be good at everything. And that is true. Now, shooting a target from a distance or sneaking up on it, cutting its throat in its sleep - those were never the ways she moved about. First and most importantly, she has no skill in shooting a bow, and her footsteps would at times have a tendency to end up as heavy, clunky stomps. Also, she always found that in order to bring down a person, or anything really, you have to do so with dignity. She once told me, that if you didn’t see the white of the eye in your target, you were nothing more than an assassin, a murderer. It is only natural then, that she developed a splendid sword technique, using a sword that most would find heavy and clunky, and not only does she use it effectively, she makes a dance of her every swing. She has spent almost a decade with a now-defunct group of like-minded individuals, and thus, she knows exactly how to work dynamically with her fellows. They’ve brought down trolls, orc-camps, wights. Even some more morally ambiguous contracts - not that we’ll delve into those. I also heard about some kind of dragon-like creature. Just not anything that involves a horse, she’s a terrible rider.

 

Morals? Well, every person has morals, you know. Hers she would not share with me, but she has some, that I know. From what I’ve gathered over the years of knowing her, certain things are shush-shush. No children. No families. If it has to be people, she’ll usually accept men, but women… never heard of her doing one of those, but I’m sure she’d consider it, if it made sense to her. Orcs, trolls, wargs, dwarves, cave-dwellers and other filth and vermin she’ll do, of course.

 

And the best news is, her price is rather reasonable. Of course, it depends on the contract, but with the service provided, you will be pleasantly surprised at the bargain.

 

I hope you will take the offer of a professional into account, good Sir. If further contact is desired, she may be found in the Prancing Pony, Bree.

 

Kindest regards,
An anonymous contractor

Friends
A newcomer to Bree, she knows not many local faces.
Relatives
None known to herself.
Rivals/Enemies
Loves
A good ale or wine, a good pipe, friendly fistfights as well as pokerish doings and good company. The small things in life, you know.
Hates
Certain men are... difficult for her. Heights. Intimacy and horses, too.
Motivation
Getting on her own feet, starting from an almost clean slate in Bree
Quotes

Amduilin's Adventures

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Amduilin's Adventures

Amduilin's Gallery

Amduilin's Gallery