Alweard, "Adder"

Name Alweard
Soldier, strategist
On campaign; currently in Dunland
Outward Appearance

Alweard is a man of the Mark whose fine, boyish features make him appear younger than his years. While he stands at an unremarkable 5'8" (1.73 M), he is slender and spry, almost never seen without an inquisitive gleam in his ice-blue eyes. and an easy smile spreading from cheek to dimpled cheek. His red-gold hair usually flows loose down his shoulderblades; his chin is smooth and beardless. Even after years on campaign, he remains rather pale save for a few freckles scattered across his nose. Over the years, his delicate looks have given him a reputation as a "pretty lad" among his fellow soldiers; he takes the teasing in stride with a wink and a smile always at the ready.

He draws little attention to himself with his attire in the field; his light leathers do not gleam with honors. With his youthful face shadowed by a hood, he cuts an almost forgettably inscrutable figure, easy to overlook or see straight through. At leisure, he favors fine clothing, but the opportunities to wear it are few and far between. 

 Ever discreet about his past, he claims no illustrious lineage. Nonetheless, his diction and soft, refined tenor call to mind a nobleman's education. His accent, when it traces anywhere in particular, suggests the speech of the rich lands of the Folde between Edoras and Middlemead. Though he is not particularly muscle-bound nor exceptionally sturdy, he is graceful on foot and in the saddle alike.

Banner art by me.


Alweard keeps his past close to his chest. An enigma among The Oathsworn, his boyish appearance belies a steely, hardened gaze only earned through years spent in a constant state of war. He does not hesitate to reveal that he has sworn no oaths to Lord Thorvall, riding with his present company upon the request of Haneth. While his voice is soft, his spear-arm is quick; he steps swiftly and silently, smile lingering whether he is a welcome guest or an unwelcome nuisance. He speaks multiple languages with easy grace, but shows his skills little until they are needed. As a man of letters, he is eccentric among the Eorlingas, but he claims that his literacy is of great use to any man of the Mark who would be his friend. More recently, he has volunteered to keep records for his warband, recording the distribution of treasure and funds in Fréasburg

Despite his current affiliations, he claims no lord save for the Second Marshal; if the rumors are true, he has spent long years as a strategist and scout in his commander's service. His old companions have known him to vanish from the battlefields for weeks or even months at a time, always on assignment. Since he was first seen riding alone, he has claimed no hearth nor father, letting his new companions address him without titles and epithets. Any past honors or glories he might have are not the subjects of song; though in some villages near the Isen's edge, his name is heard in the evenings, amid the flickerings of the torchfire. 

After the Oathsworn's journey across the Isen, he was presumed missing, having vanished in the heart of Dunland. He has returned to them mostly intact, but he speaks little of his brief captivity.

Marhred, Haeneth, Orduin, Dytha, Thorvall, Eadaoin, and Aeshaeidr. He has grown particularly fond of Wrecca and protective of Osythe.
He claims none; Alruna claims to be his cousin.
Why have rivals when one could have friends?
Stories around the fire, reading (odd as it is for a Rohir), his homeland, riddles and games of wits
Little if rumor is to be believed.
To serve the Mark and his people by any means.

Alweard's Adventures

violent delights 1 month 2 weeks ago
foul earth and fell dreams 1 month 3 weeks ago
true colors 2 months 2 days ago
no dawn, no day 2 months 1 week ago
to freeze or to thaw 3 months 2 weeks ago
Alweard's Adventures

Alweard's Gallery

Alweard's Gallery