#andreg

[hallothere]

well I anticipate you getting some angsty ones, so for the wellbeing of our guys I'm just gonna sliiiiide 34 (Trust/Comfort/Safety) in here. heck why not a 79 (hugs) and 57 (rescue) while we're at it

T-T-T-TRIPLE COMBOOOOO (34, 79, 57)

(technically in compliance. this one is a little violent and near-death-y with a side of made-up Ranger surgery so. be warnéd)

Baugarch was dead, to begin with.

The warg-father, minion of sorcerers, and fell-guardian of the Blackwolds was finished.

And so was Ningeryn, daughter of Nirondil, Ranger of the Dunedain. She lay under the corpse, still holding one sword in her hand as it pierced the heart of her enemy. The other was lodged in the beast's back. Not enough to have killed it the first time.

It hurt too much to cry properly so she let the tears stream down her face. Her first assignment... and her last. At least she'd done it. At least she'd found the warg, even if she didn't have enough time to track it to its den, or warn Andreg. She was supposed to get backup before she faced the beast in combat. She hadn't had enough time.

The warg was now too heavy to lift. She tried, but she was well and fully pinned. She'd scared birds in the otherwise silent Chetwood when she cried out. It wasn't how she wanted to die, in the silent, empty forest. Alone. She tried to put a brave face on it. At least she'd done a good turn for the people of Combe, Archet, and the surrounding towns. Farmers wouldn't get eaten. Woodsmen neither.

And she'd put down the sorcerer's beast. The minion of the one that took Amdir from them. And Mundol and Toradan. And Reniolind... Reniolind had been her friend, and they'd ensorceled Amdir until he'd been stolen from them completely. Until he couldn't see friend and foe.

The tears came faster now that she thought of her friend. She'd die not far from him, maybe have her name etched next to his. But she'd wanted to live. She'd wanted to avenge him as she could, and keep the lands they'd promised to watch over safe. But she'd lashed out too hotly. Swung her swords with no thought of defense, only destroying the warg that represented everything horrible in Breeland.

Everything became dimmer for a bit. She wasn't sure how much later it had been when a horse whinnied in protest. Boots crunched in the leaf litter and then Baugarch's corpse lurched on top of her. She cried out again. The dead warg rolled into the grass and a blurry face filled up her vision.

"Ningeryn! Hang on. Hang on..." It was Andreg! He'd made it... She never thought anyone would. "You had to go and challenge the beast yourself..."

But the rescue had come too late. She squeezed his arm once and all went dark.

-------------------------------

Ningeryn woke up screaming. She hadn't meant to, but the warg was clawing her again and that had already killed her once. She didn't want to do it again.

"Help her, Amlan!"

But that was Saeradan, and Saeradan would rather die than let her get torn to shreds. Well, if he could help it. And if Amlan was there too, they would be more than a match for some scruffy warg of Angmar.

On instinct she pressed her shoulders and head into the surface she was laying on. Wood. A floor maybe. There were hands on her arms, and she could feel them wavering as if they were actively afraid they'd hurt her. Someone was laying across her legs with equal hesitation. Saeradan needed her not to kick and roll. She would do it- anything- for him.

Ningeryn reached out for a hand and found one quickly. Heedless of the fact that there were bones under the skin, she squeezed it for all she was worth.

"Ningeryn?" It was Amlan this time. Sounding pained. Likely, his were the bones being reduced to dust. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded. It was all the motion she could stand, rigid and tensed against the pain as she was.

"Can you drink something? Saeradan can't stop now, you've lost too much blood. You were asleep before, but now--"

Now she knew. They were trying to save her. Ningeryn had fought to be here, in Bree, in the ranks of the Rangers. She would fight, but not fight Amlan and Saeradan and Andreg. That warg wouldn't kill her twice.

She managed to nod again, and to swallow something sweet and heavy. It went down bitterly, but it stayed down. Saeradan was muttering something soothing as he went to apply a different salve over what she presumed was a section he'd already sewn. Or, just maybe hot lava, as something like liquid flame touched an open cut and she screamed again.

She held Amlan's hand until it went dark once more.

-------------

Next she awoke, she was in the middle of drinking something freezing. She sputtered and that lit a fire in her torso. It was dulled, red embers maybe, but it was still there and it still hurt. The drink had been moved and someone was drying her face with a towel.

"You're safe. You're in Saeradan's house. It's me, Andreg, and you've been asleep for almost a day. Nestadam is on her way from Nen Harn, and she'll be here soon."

Ningeryn didn't respond as gently and eloquently. "Whahappen?" Her mouth felt dry- probably the reason for the offered drink- and she felt like her head was wrapped in wool.

"Do you remember anything? What was the last thing we talked about?"

She wanted to curse his protocol and his probing questions. But, she was still leaned up against him where he'd helped her to drink and she was very comfortable. One arm hugged supportively around her shoulders, the other lost to the void or possibly still holding the towel. Ningeryn was unfortunately familiar with being nursemaided, but it was still a safe feeling. A good feeling.

"I killed it," she said at last, "I killed that warg."

Andreg sighed. "Without backup. What possessed you--"

"Don't rile her up, Andreg." That was Saeradan. All gentle admonishment. "You think she hasn't learned her lesson?"

The hand she could feel tightened around her shoulder. "No, of course not." Not a true retort. Andreg was uncommonly quiet. But she was sure about why now, as she was coming out of the fog. He'd even warned her about it before she left. He couldn't lose another of them so soon. Not after Reniolind.

"I'm fine." Ningeryn said. If she sounded sure enough she might convince them both. "I'm tired, and it does hurt a little, but I'm fine."

"No you're not."

Aha. Two voices in tandem. Ningeryn let herself smile. Oh she was fine now, and she was sure they'd make certain of it.

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

33 for anyone you'd really like to plinko :D

33. protector/sacrifice (leaning more into sacrifice because i'm. mean lol) me @ me: how to save candaith while also having a dead character to give the troubled dream sequence the Weight ™ it deserves [redacted]: bonjour c: me: oh. thats how. FUCK anyway! spoilers for the forsaken road :') ish.

The wind screams in the caverns, cutting through Saelinriel's cloak as if it's made of paper, and she shivers. Her hands shake as they hold her torch as she ventures further into the cavern, following closely behind Radanir.

There is a howling gust and all the torches, not just hers, go out in a single puff, drowning the Grey Company in darkness.

The darkness is all consuming, until, breaths later, blue light flickers into being, like corpse-candles.

They are tall columns, indistinguishable from shadows in the evening at first, before steadily growing clearer and clearer until Saelinriel can see each face with perfect detail. Saelinriel can almost feel the anger that radiates from them like a heatwave, and they get only angrier when Halbarad challenges them.

Finally, the leader seems to call off the other shades and look straight at her, so intently as if they are trying to turn her into a shade by sheer force alone. Chill clings to her bones as the leader instructs her to find Britou, who speaks with all who pass through the Forsaken Road. 

Then, as quickly as blowing out a candle, the shades disappear.

They are not gone, she still feels the chill of the air that lingers around the Dead, but they are no longer visible, and that is better than nothing. Halbarad tells her that he and Radanir will search one side of the cavern, and tells her to find Candaith, who ought to be down that way.

Just as she is about to go down into the tunnel where Britou awaited, something catches her elbow, and she nearly jumps several feet in the air. There is an apologetic chuckle, and Tadan steps out of the shadows. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says ruefully, as she shakes her head, trying to calm her heart rate. “Where are you headed?” 

She shrugs. “I was told that Candaith would be down this way, and to find him before speaking with Britou.”

“Mind if I come with you?” 

If Saelinriel has to tell the truth, the company is more than welcome. The chill makes her teeth chatter, and the Dead sets her on edge, so she nods, and they find Candaith, and the three of them go see Britou. 

The stones crack underneath Saelinriel’s boots as she walks, and her shoulders brush the wall of the tunnel before it spits them out into a bowl shaped cavern, where a shade – bright in the dimness, with horribly keen, piercing eyes - waits in silence. 

He studies them keenly, and there is a coldness in his eyes. He feels much more alive than the other shades and something about him makes her chest twist into knots.

“All who stray here belong to the Dead.” Britou speaks the word dead with a horrifying finality, and it is all she can do to not step back. “It was unwise to come here, warm-bloods.”

"You came to this place to escape your curse, Britou. But there was no escape, was there?" Candaith says, coldly. “You will never know the peace of death until you fulfill your oath.”

Britou scoffs and summons shade after shade, trying to wear them all down, until Candaith steps forward, eyes blazing underneath his hood and mask. “Enough of this!" he commands fiercely. "We need prove nothing to you.”

Britou laughs and five shades appear this time. Saelinriel and Candaith and Tadan barely manage to defeat them – if defeat is the right word, since they cannot truly be slain for they are the Dead Who Do Not Rest.

"End this, Britou! I command you to end this!" Candaith says, every inch one of the Dúnedain.

"I need not listen to your commands, warm-blood!" Britou raises his hands for the spirits to come again but--

"Hold!" Candaith's voice echoes with power, like the roaring sea, and Saelinriel nearly claps her hands to her ears with the way it bounces off the stone walls. “I have the authority to command you and all your kind, Britou!”

Her heart freezes in her chest and she almost chokes on her breath. She and Tadan share a look that says the same thing: What is candaith doing?

Britou scowls, his faint blue light growing brighter by the minute. "Impossible! What evidence dost thou have that this be so?” He hisses the words out, his voice shuddering off the walls, as if there is a multitude of him instead of one.

Candaith pulls his glove off without lowering his sword and his bebarahir glints in faint blue light as he holds it aloft. “The ring of Barahir, heirloom of isildur's line!"

Britou snarls, his face going dark. His eyes narrow as he studies Candaith, and the small room gets even colder – Saelinriel’s teeth chatter faster than before.  “I see…”

She does not know what Britou is looking for in Candaith’s face, but try as she might, Saelinriel cannot see over Candaith's shoulder. 

A few moments pass. 

She can tell by the way the cavern goes still – more still than before – that something passes unseen and unspoken between them. 

“We will fulfil our oath at last, that the heir may lift the curse. thou may tell thy men.”

Ever so slowly, Candaith turns to face her and Tadan.

The relief that flooded her at Britou's admission slowly ebbs away, draining out of her and leaving the dregs of worry and fear in their place – instead of a triumphant smile, a grimace graces Candaith’s face, like he is bracing himself for something unpleasant.

She watches as Tadan’s eyes go wide.

And everything happens at once.

Britou's lips curl into a devious smile and he looms large behind Candaith, casting a dark blue shadow over him, and Saelinriel’s mouth drops open and she can't- she can't say anything, she can't force a single syllable out. 

Britou lifts his spirit-sword high and Tadan only just manages to shout a warning, but it is too late – Britou strikes Candaith down before there is time for him to even do anything. 

“But that is not the Ring of Barahir, and thou art not the heir of Isildur.”

The words echo in a deafening judgment as  Candaith staggers forward and she tries - though she knows, logically, that she would not be able to catch him easily - to keep him from hitting the ground hard. 

He is so still and heavy, and she is frozen and cannot move and Britou's eyes glint as he narrows in on her and Tadan as red oozes across Candaith’s back. 

“Get Candaith out of here,” Tadan says, his voice only slightly shaky as he steps between Britou and the two of them and– 

Saelinriel wants to argue, she can’t– won’t– just leave him here, (she made a promise in Evendim, at the side of Astiul's cairn, all those months ago) but the red stain on the back of Candaith’s tunic is rapidly spreading and getting concerningly dark. 

Her free-hand hovers above her sword, torn, as Britou continues to summon shade after shade. 

“Just give me a head start,’’ he says, swords drawn. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“But–”

Candaith lets out a cough, and blood trickles out of his mouth. 

“Go!”

Britou's cold, cruel laughter echoes through the hollow chambers as she is forced – half-carrying, half-dragging a woozy Candaith – through the tunnels, harried by the Dead. 

All around them, the cavern shakes, as rocks and dust shudder down from the ceiling and the Dead pursue them as they flee, though more than once she turns, trying to see where Tadan is, but the haze of falling debris makes that impossible. They stumble over planks of wood, over bodies -- and this makes her want to be sick, but to be sick is to stop and to stop is... not an option.

An eternity passes – or so it feels – before the two of them stumble into Radanir, nearly knocking him down as the world shifts and tilts, and Saelinriel grabs his arm with her free hand – partly to steady herself, and keep from toppling Candaith onto the floor at such an abrupt stop. 

At once, Radanir ducked under Candaith’s other arm, and some of the weight shifts, balancing out, and Saelinriel’s shoulders aren’t screaming so loudly at her for trying such a task alone anymore. 

Radanir looks utterly concerned, his brows drawn together as he tries to limp them toward the exit, but his words floated to her as if he were speaking underwater. “What has happened? All of a sudden, the Oath-breakers fell upon us, and we have only driven them off for the moment!”

“I…” She stumbles over herself as they come nearly to the mouth of the caverns, and Radanir tries to take Candaith further but her feet are rooted to the ground as black spots dance in her vision and her next words scrape her throat raw: “Stop! We have to wait for Tadan!” 

The cavern is shaking still, sending more and more debris down on them but...

Radanir says something about her and Candaith being nearly the last ones in the caverns -- everyone else is gone -- and surely Tadan is waiting for them outside.

Another rattling boom as the cavern walls shake harder, throwingg down boulders the size of Saelinriel's torso, and there really is no arguing now.

But, as the three of escape into the fading daylight, stumbling bloodied and pale with the rest of the company back to Lhaunch, she keeps her eyes on the darkness of the tunnels until the very last.

[loremastering]

This is my son, Andreg, my other son, Andreg, my other son, Andr

[444names]

male greek forenames BUT excluding "o"

Achaias Achanis Achantis Acharatis Achil Achilis Achratevas Achridas Achriltis Adamias Addas Ademetris Agiada Ailleas Aillefthis Ailtis Alazanni Aleanas Aleas Alefsta Aleksilis Aleni Alexias Alexista Alias Alipiris Amassilida Anasseus Andamantis Andas Andemes Andreg Andrenis Angel Angelis Anike Annes Annick Annis Antes Antineias Antines Antis Anuelis Anuil Anuilis Apiris Arales Aralu Arastes Arathanaki Ardigheri Ardis Arghighil Arias Ariasilis Arida Aristel Aristris Arrys Arsene Arsenistas Arseus Artis Atataki Atelis Athemes Ather Atheri Atheridas Athris Atiri Atitris Attharis Augus August Augustiste Augustris Aurew Biketus Cardis Chaleine Chanas Channick Chanthis Chanueles Chargianas Charis Chras Chrati Chrias Chril Chrip Chris Christel Chryssilis Cleftes Clias Craki Crasiu Cratasiu Dassebas Demes Demetus Demmandre Demmaris Demmas Denes Deralu Dergherges Deris Digasseas Diketris Dimil Dimilles Dines Dinis Distas Distis Efanaelis Efanas Efstas Efsteris Efstis Eftes Eftevris Efthanas Efthani Eftharis Elistakis Emetris Emetus Emmanas Emmannas Emmannis Emmaris Emmarist Emmaxiada Epamathe Epametus Epanaelis Epannes Epanni Epannikas Epavvas Ephilvaris Eustas Evagas Evasiltis Evassilis Evenis Fanas Fanes Fangel Fanis Fantitras Geledasis Geleris Geles Gelias Gelines Gelis Gelistaki Geris Germetris Giachadda Giadda Giakas Giaki Gianatis Giangel Giannathis Glamas Greantias Greas Grias Gridas Grike Gustes Haianas Haleas Hanas Handa Handas Hanis Hanneias Hannides Hannistas Hanuilis Harateris Harilles Haris Hartis Hemmari Henistis Hennes Highis Hilis Hratassiu Hrisaakles Hrymitris Hryssiu Iachannis Iadda Iakis Ianaelis Iange Ianuelis Iasilias Iassilis Ighilis Ilatis Illeas Istas Kalis Kharigas Kleas Kleftes Klenis Klentelene Kridamanas Kymil Kymilis Kyrignas Kyris Kyristylis Lames Lamilate Lassis Laureanas Laureas Laurew Lefange Lefthandis Lerignas Letri Letris Letus Lexannick Lexiakis Lides Makias Maklis Managas Managge Manas Manassiu Mandigas Mandines Mandreg Mannis Maras Marike Maril Maris Matas Mates Mathangel Mathe Metralis Metris Miaki Miakis Michris Miclip Miclis Miliandas Milis Milist Milles Miltida Milvas Mitralames Mitrias Mitris Myris Neksiu Nektas Nestes Niclexis Nidaines Nidassil Nides Nikas Nines Nistaris Nistavvas Nistes Nistis Pames Panas Panatas Panda Pandemes Pandis Pandre Panes Pangelis Paninis Panis Pannas Pannikleas Pannis Pantis Paugus Paugustris Paure Paureg Paures Pavvaris Peras Pergeles Peris Petrales Petrateris Petris Petus Phaddas Phandre Phantinis Philis Plamannas Plamatis Plaugus Plaurew Saakas Sames Sametrias Savagas Savri Savrista Savvales Savvanas Seandas Seustas Seustes Silazannis Siles Silias Silis Silvannis Skymitris Skyri Skyris Spida Spidas Spides Spiri Spirianael Spiris Spyri Spyriaki Spyrianas Spyrilip Spyris Stakis Standas Stangeris Stannis Stantis Stari Stefstini Stephil Stidas Stines Stiris Strakaris Stras Strateris Stril Stris Stylis Takiaki Taklestes Tanagas Tandas Tanis Tanthilis Taris Tasseas Tastel Tasyvis Tathanas Tatis Tavas Thades Thales Thanas Thannis Thantis Tharis Tharrys Tharsennis Tharseus Tharti Thenis Theris Thilis Thilles Thipiris Tzachari Tzaharas Vageles Vanas Vandreg Vange Vannas Vannis Varales Vasil Vasiu Vasseas Vassenick Vassil Vassiu Vastannes Vastevis Xenes Xenichri Xennicles Xennis Yanas Yandemes Yangelis Yanis Yanti Yantis Yanuel Yiaki Yianas Yiandines Yianis Yiannick Zachanges Zahalis Zaharis Zanassilis Zenes Zenestas Zenis Zeuaggelis Zeuagiakis Zeustas Zeustis

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

5: thunder

(or: two wizards yelling at each other on a mountain, why est shouldn’t be given a boss fight immediately after troubled dreams, or storm on methedras)

The path up the mountain is long and hard and cold, the longer and harder for your avoidance of what passes for the road. Saeradan is at your side and Amlan guards Delwin behind. The mountain climbs and snow crunches beneath even your feet. You do not speak. Saeradan and Amlan you know well enough by now you do not need it, and if the silence unsettles Delwin she does not show it.

For hours you ascend the slopes of Methedras. Once, you creep to the edge of a steep drop and look on the Gravenwood far, far below. There rise the bony, bare branches of the Tree of Tribute, and there to the north must be the road that leads back to Tûr Morva and tucked against the foot of the mountain the camp where most of your friends must wait and prepare to move on.

Saeradan calls softly for you and you return to him. 

You have been left in peace as you climbed, but this does not reassure you at all. You saw too clearly what the Old Woman of the Mountain was capable of in the Gravenwood, heard the stories Andreg and Amlan and Saeradan told you of their journey to her cottage in Enedwaith. She must be waiting.

In some ways, it’s a relief when you see the first of the elhudan, flickering like firefly lanterns in the snow. You avoid them, careful not to draw their attention lest you shine a beacon on your location for all to see. There are fewer of the cuthraul or the great horned druggavar, but they are not absent. Those you cannot avoid you banish with bow and blade, you with your borrowed dagger rather than anything else. You would like nothing more than to let loose with all the power of the storm you can hold, but not yet. You turn once, a joke for Andreg on your lips, but it dies unsaid. Amlan looks at you in question, but you only shake your head and return to the deer path you are following.

There is thunder on the mountain when the ambush comes. There are far too many for you to be any use with Elenagil- but if you are to be honest, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind until hours later. You lash out with your runestones and the force of it dazes even the more potent spirits long enough to banish them more permanently.

Saeradan’s hand falls on your shoulder as you stand there, breathing heavily, waiting for the powdery snow driven into the air to settle around your feet.

“Are you alright, Esterín?” he asks quietly. Amlan is saying something to Delwin, who is eyeing you with something like unease. You give Saeradan a smile full of teeth.

“As well as any of us.” (If you look just past the next ridge, you will be able to see Orthanc. Is Lothrandir still there? Is he-)

Gwyllion has summoned all manner of spirits to her and hid them in the trees, in the stones, in bodies like dogs that Amlan eyes with distaste and says remind him too much of the Barrow-downs. She has even managed to draw regmyl to her, if lesser ones. 

You come to the small hut at the peak of Methedras, and there Gwyllion waits. There is talk, but you ignore both Saeradan’s words and the Old Woman’s, straining for the last scraps of your self-control. Gwyllion calls down a great drake and you seize Saeradan’s shoulder and shove him back to where Amlan stands guard over Delwin and her drum.

“Stay back,” you say, low. Saeradan opens his mouth to protest, but whatever he sees in your face stops him.

You open your mouth and words spill out. Wind and snow rise in a flurry and you pull lightning about yourself, and when the drake comes near enough you scream and lightning races from your hands to the sky, pulled not from the air but from this storm of your own making. 

You have tried so hard not to let all of it get the best of you- the betrayal in Tûr Morva, the losses, Isengard, the Fords- but it has been so much in so short a time and you find now that you cannot. You remember Andreg, dying in your arms, and you don’t even know if it was truly necessary, if you could have saved him and didn’t. If you could have brought Lothrandir with you and didn’t. Ball lightning dances around you and you hurl it gracelessly at the drake, at Gwyllion. You don’t know what she throws back at you, and by now you are beyond caring. Spirits come to her call, and once something reaches for you through the storm, but a distant drumbeat breaks through the thunder in your ears and it is turned aside.

Echdrud falls, crushing Gwyllion’s home beneath him, and the Old Woman of the Mountain shrieks, alight with rage to match yours. You hope your friends are standing very far back.

When it is done, the earth around has been blasted free of snow and dotted with small craters from your power and hers. Dark streaks that feel like burns cross your face and your arms through your tattered sleeves. It smells like ash and smoke. Gwyllion lies before you and you collapse beside her, arms and legs numb and useless as you finally release the storm. Saeradan and Amlan crunch through the snow to your side.

“Don’t-” you try to say, but all of you is numb and tingling like static and all that comes is a vague and distressed noise that does not at all soothe their alarm. The air pops when Saeradan tries to touch you and he jerks back with a sharp cry, shaking his hand. You can still feel the charge in the air, slow to dissipate after the fury of the fight. Saeradan waits, watching you attentively while Amlan checks Gwyllion, but you already know he will find no life in her now.

“I am not sure what you needed me for,” Delwin says, shattering the crackling stillness atop the mountain. “You seem to have things quite under control.” It draws a laugh from Amlan and a strained smile from Saeradan, but you are as numb inside as out, hollow and tingling and hardly able to string one thought to the next. Under control. If only. You blink once, slow, and when you open your eyes again you are on your side in the dirt. Ah. It will be a long walk back down the mountain, you think.

---

There was thunder on the mountain, the rest of the Company says later, when you wake properly and shake out the tingling that lingers in your fingertips. A great storm that echoed off Methedras and rumbled among the roots of the Gravenwood. 

“We worried for you,” Halbarad says. You duck your head while Amlan and Saeradan insist that all was well, mostly, that the shadow-burns already fading from your skin were the only true injuries and that Gwyllion will trouble neither Dunland nor Rohan. You are glad they stood back. You did not strike with precision; you do not want to think what would have happened had they not been wary enough of you to keep away. You catch them giving you odd looks the next few days, and when you ask Saeradan hesitates before describing the sparks that leapt from your eyes when you ordered him back.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“You didn’t hurt us,” Saeradan replies, offering a hand you do not take.

“I would have.” Saeradan frowns, but when you still do not move from your spot near the fire, he sighs and leaves you with a gentle touch on your shoulder. You stare into the fire, and wonder if any of this will pass or if you will be this near to cracking for the rest of your days.

[poetry-draws]

daervunn or andreg maybe?👀

Andreg will break into your house given provocation

[fash1onable-late-for-lotr]

So-

I did a thing- (yes they’re my favorite rangers i don’t take criticism)

[wally-b-feed]

zinn and andreg

[andregulino]

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[thalion71]

i'm so on board for the "every Ranger has a weird quirk" thing

here's some: Andreg tries, if at all possible, to sleep in a tree. Techeron drinks all the broth in the soup first then eats the pieces. Halbarad brought a pan flute.

halbarad brought a pan flute i love that. maybe he knows how to play it maybe he just brought it along for fun i don't know. maybe he's gonna give it to aragorn for a joke or something

langlas will build just. the absolute strangest fires. rangers by nature spend a lot of time building campfires and they definitely all have Opinions on this, and none of them can figure out what langlas is doing

idhrien will put warm rocks in her blankets on cold nights. this in and of itself isn't that strange, and is actually quite effective. the issue is more her just scooping rocks out of the still-burning firepit with a spoon and just kind of dumping them in. yes this has backfired more than once in her life

not for anyone in particular, but everyone sits weird and they all think everyone else is sitting even weirder than they are

faeron refuses to sleep under a few very particular types of tree

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

List of commonly seen/referenced characters on this blog ~

//: So, I may not be a multi-muse blog, but I do have a number of characters specific to this one. This is just to kinda get them out in the open lol. I am open to letting people interact with some of these guys for short threads and if someone starts getting more activity or interest than some of the others I’d be happy to make a side blog for them :3 Feel Free To Send Asks About Them :D I’d Love to answer questions about them ~

The Reef:

Ezra’s family. Her twin brother, Skoll, her Father Njal, her unnamed mother and other siblings. As I map them out more I’ll update XD

Dark Ages:

The Boy - a human child of around five or six that travels with Risen Ezra for a number of years. He is killed by the Warlord Reaper-3...

Reaper-3 - An Exo Warlord who kills The Boy. He controls a fifty square mile track of forest within the territory of another Warlord. He looses in a battle with Risen Ezra and flees... Reaper-3 Rebuilds himself and becomes Outlaw-4.

The Rangers - While I don’t have any named Ranger characters they do appear in Dark Ages threads or drabble.

Post Dark Ages - Early City Years - Six Fronts - Twilight Gap - Saint 14′s Crusade:

Arlo - A male Human Warlock. He isn’t quite as old as Risen Ezra but close enough to still be authoritative over her. Arlo’s personality is gruff if not a bit callous, don’t let the stuffy exterior fool you! He’s not above a prank or joke once he gets comfortable. He is killed by Outlaw Ezra after his Ghost is crushed during the Crusade...

Seraph-7 - The Fire-team’s Hunter before her Ghost was killed and she was irreparably damaged. She’s Arlo’s Exo wife. Despite her damage and Risen Ezra’s aversion to Exos (thanks to Reaper) she still manages to mother the teams little savage.

Ulfar - A male Awoken Titan. Tall and evenly built the Titan has a very easy going sense to him when not in combat. Well read he often takes Risen Ezra’s Warlock Class designation to his advantage, dragging her to the fledgling archives so she can check out books or other materials for them to read. Ulfar is just as old as Arlo, having been resurrected in roughly the same area a few hours apart. Because of this, they see themselves as brothers. Ulfar is involved with another teams Warlock, a slim Exo of a man who is yet unnamed ~. Ulfar is killed by Outlaw Ezra after his Ghost is crushed during the Crusade...

Outlaw-4 - A male Exo Hunter who joined the team shortly after Risen Ezra. No one in the team is privy to the fact that he is Reaper-3, not even Ezra...He’d completely rebuilt his face and frame from other Exo’s hes killed. The man is quiet, surprisingly charismatic and jovial but makes no attempt to hide his disdain for Ezra. The two often get into physical altercations and at one point the Hunter went so far as to stab her in the face after Six Fronts, which resulted in a temporary ban from the team (he was allowed back in at the start of Twilight Gap). When he Ezra committed the murders of Arlo, Ulfar and their Ghosts he was the one to deal the most damage to the Warlock, subsequently throwing her off a cliff before attempting to crush her Ghost...

The Eliksni - A rouge band of eight Fallen from a handful of houses that defected their station to live freely. These eight were absorbed temporarily into a House of Kings splinter group that fancied themselves the true heirs to the house. This group was ‘hired’ by Outlaw to ambush the team while he was away and make the attack seem for all to see that Ezra was the culprit, leaving her alive long enough for him to finish her off... Ezra was more than they bargained for and witnessing them murder her friends snapped something in her. The eight were all that stood between Outlaw and the enraged Warlock as she dispensed with the rest of the group and it was the eight that saved Revenant from being killed, running the Exo Hunter off before retrieving and nursing a badly wounded Ezra...  The two most common individuals are a female, runt, Albino Dreg named Pearl and a war scarred, male Barron named Andreg. The Eight live near Ezra on her lake and keep largely to themselves.

[hallothere]

Andreg is the guy that when they’re searching him for more weapons, he just has infinitely more weapons. The man is a human stockpile. A non-exhaustive list of things Andreg is straight-up packing in the Gravenwood:

[gameoliodan]

We bid Andreg farewell as we head to the Southern Bree-Lands, and first, meet Gytha Lainey to continue following The Hunter's Path. Then, to find Lenglinn and hear more on the other Nazghul riders!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyatJXGTZLY

[444names]

Names derived from the English Wikipedia's "List of short place names"

Aanam Aby Aen Aind Airs Aland Alet Alle Allove Alma Almon Aly Ameng Andregic Anoa Anza Ara Aritim Arover Arrlawa Ary Ascoto Ast Astereet Astlanxi Ath

Bad Barand Barish Beas Beldloven Beley Belsicand Berlou Bold Borterlab Bortré Bostreast Bottinet Bralagn Brand Breect Briden Broven Bud Buriguime Calmodal Cand Cary Caty Celage Cely Ces Chejind Chergen Chi Chies Chigeon Chinne Chisturn Chus Cita Com Coman Corislan Cothep Cou Coublity Couters Couth Crorg Czer Dafjor Daly Dania Deran Des Devalagae Digna Dina Disted Diver Don Dounala Edestan Egord Egordis Egy Empe Enatione Enet Enordal Enthome Eogra Epa Epara Epark Epu Etwed Eur Fairs Farkdang Fast Fax Fijin Fin Fincelaby Fir Fordaleas Foria Fortre Fria Frist Fun Funt Garmeast Gawed Geon Ges Ght Glas Gos Govardy Govisa Groli Guch Guriao Gurna Gävle Hand Handeslan Haudi Hea Hebrad Her Herm Heth Heuru Higes Hildlang Hipargium Hisa Hon Hun Hund Hurg Huận Ibelanina Ice Ied Iesied Ine Ing Inowaku Ion Ippent Ire Ireet Irego Ishaug Isia Islo Ist Istai Istla Istreg Ita Japertand Jia Juthnina Jämtlan Kaghea Kaing Kaity Kand Kanine Kast Kay Kayamers Khuantal Kland Knoway Kommuay Korld Krieders Kur Kuren Kurms Kuru Kus Lag Lahong Lamagalac Land Lang Lansuda Later Ledeven Lek Leméislân Ley Lia Liaonnera Licham Lieli Lifent Lincip Lind Linne Lity Liveng Livish Localma Lomadal Lon Loon Lovaskey Lown Luim Lân Mageonsi Mal Mand Mation Mes Modal Modensu Moders Mona Mone Monght Monin Moralit Moriž Mos Mosning Mostleser Mote Moter Moulf Musaket Naanzarob Nagas Nal Namon Naweg Nerme Ners Nia Nitand Nizemian Nog Nor Norequ Norg Norpo Norranyam Nort Nowall Oaterønd Obleon Obos Odalahom Odeven Ohnigin Ohnpe Oirek Oirfas Okince Okinja Okne Olcs Onglermen Oraiferg Ordalan Ordershik Oric Orisland Orly Orma Orrisa Ort Ortreend Orweenes Orwes Oth Oyama Oyang Parace Parai Pard Pardes Parklu Pary Phorgin Phung Pierre Ping Placena Pon Pornsuld Pub Pun Pyrénée Qenia Qenizary Quand Qui Quảngeona Rad Ran Ree Regosniy Reind Res Reso Rhamn Rian Roa Roaria Roldal Roms Roon Roto Rudisa Rys Rézvárom Scoma Scorkiand Seala Sean Seconaa Seed Segionght Seis Sero Seval Seviltesi Shan Shearde Shogreg Shomic Shorany Shord Shorict Sia Sije Sionsus Ske Slanamle Slog Slâ Sma Somb Sopon Soveng Soveslag Spa Stan Ster Stesish Stlany Stra Stry Sul Sunt Surada Surd Surity Svaled Swest Swillanxi Swilloven Sykka Szatis Tameto Tentia Thejia Then Theo Thipark Tholoi Tia Tio Tisidest Tom Tomard Tomestres Torwesinh Touth Tra Traic Tre Trom Try Tshurk Tsus Tuckyotly Turesh Tuzlan Twes Ubdiffeng Udia Ukiastry Ullek Urdlocand Usaif Valu Valuczer Varter Ver Vere Vered Vet Vil Vin Ving Vis Von Vordena Vorkdaya Vys Väst Västami Wakes Wales Way When Wilan Willo Wit Witan Wition Yaman Yamesity Ybei Ybenea Zhnpe Ångent Öden Örður Öst Östal Östrad

[bn9889]

So... I’m not sure if any LOTRO players noticed but... the quests in Bree, a constable and a ranger will offer you Searadan’s pants for quest reward, which make me wonder how on middle-earth did they get his pants? Like... did Saeradan came to the constable house for a bath or... something else and forgot a pair of trousers there? And how could Chief Watcher Grimbriar and ranger Andreg think that a used pair of trousers of someone else is a good way to thank the player for their help against the robbers and the orcs? Like... ew... thank you... I would rather choose that sword. 

OR... or... the devs are trying to tell us something... Why other dudes keep giving me Saeradan’s pants? Is Saeradan gay? Are they trying to invite me for a 3some? 

[loremastering]

30 day LOTRO challenge

Day 18: If you could throw an NPC into Mount Doom, who would get barbecued?

I wish I had a screenshot for this but alas.

But I would say the ranger Andreg. I love the rangers mind you, but his tracking an old goat quest caused me a lot of the grief the first time I did it.