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Lysanor
Lysanor of the Turch-luth
| Name | Lysanor |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Occupation | Huntress |
| Age | Young |
| Race | Man |
|---|---|
| Residence | Staying in Bree |
| Kinship |
| Outward Appearance | Lysanor of the Turch-luth is a young woman of Dunlending heritage. Standing at 5'6" (about 1.68 m), she is tall for her kin. Her stature is further accentuated by a lean, broad-shouldered build, slender and strong as a young tree. She wears her reddish-brown hair short as to not catch in her bowstring; it is usually windswept, errant strands framing icy gray eyes. The woman's features are angular save for her full lips, the one feature that fails to reflect the sharpness of her cheekbones and jawline. Some would call her visage striking or handsome, others intimidating; a face like hers in the North is hard to forget. While she steps softly, her posture is straight-backed and confident; she wears the pelts and claws of the many great beasts she has slain with pride. A longbow is almost always slung across her back. When she speaks, her contralto is inflected with the accent of her native Dunland. |
|---|
Background
Born to the Turch-luth (Boar Clan) of Dunland, Lysanor was seemingly born with a keen eye and a strong arm, taking up the bow at a young age. When an enormous bear, having been lured out of its cave by a fleeing hunter, rampaged through the village square, Lysanor fired the killing shot; she became a local legend at only sixteen summers old. Its severed head earned a place above her hearth. Over the years, she came to decorate her person and her home with the spoils of her many hunts: pelts, horns, claws, teeth. Willful and proud, she took no husband, filling her free hours with journeys and long hours spent around the fire, telling the clan's youth wild stories of her exploits.
She could have lived that way forever.
Unfortunately, fate had different plans for the Turch-luth. With her clan butchered by the Draig-luth and her kinsmen and -women driven and enslaved, Lysanor fled the conquered and ruined lands of the Boar, traveling north. She could only take shelter from the eyes of Saruman for so long before she snuck through Minhiriath dressed in their colors, eventually finding her way to the town of Bree.
| Friends | None |
|---|---|
| Relatives | None known in the North. |
| Rivals/Enemies | None personally; she would claim the Forgoil as her sworn enemies. |
| Loves | Hunting, hearing new stories, boasting, music and song |
|---|---|
| Hates | Slavers, the forgoil, hypocrisy |
| Motivation | To live free |
| Quotes | None for now |
