User:Dynnagorn/Dynnagorn

Dynnagorn
Fighting for the Free People
Order of the White Flame
World:	Laurelin
Vocation:	Armourer
Class:	Captain
Race:	Man
Region:	Gondor
Age:	21
Height:	6'1"
Sex:	Male
Skin:	Fair
Hair:	Brown
Eye:	Blue

Description

Physical Description:

Well built, broad shoulders but by no means an absolute power house. All his training has been done on the field creating a good all round level of fitness and a superb level of endurance although he often concentrates all his energy into incapacitating insuperior foes extremly quickly. Clean shaven with short, messy hair, and usually welded into a detailed, heavy plated armour set, likely to be dyed the colour black where possible.

Personality Description:

Inquisitive, he likes to be well informed about whats going on and how he can further himself. He has a very layed back aproach to life and doesn't get wound up by anything. He keeps his problems deep down and hides them well, often appearing more shy or dismissive if a comment embarreses him or digs up unfond memories. Successor to his Kin he is always aiming to meet everyones high expectations, and trys to act nobely, friendly and heroically. As time has gone past he has become a little too over confident, a little big for his boots but people can not deny he is a benefit to any fighting force. His actions have showered him with some degree of fame and it has been heard his 'innocent' charm has made him a bit of a ladies man.

Chronicles of Dynnagorn

Dynnagorn has always been a fan of telling his stories. Although it is mostly factual what is written in the following paragraphs, it is an authors interpretation of the adventures written in these chronicles.

Chapter One of Dynnagorns journey; Charge of the Fifty

So this is the reward for serving the steward of Gondor too admirably. Great men cannot be remembered as they are assigned impossible missions to put their skills to better use.

Fifty men loyal to me were to purge an orc encampment, two miles east of Osgiliath. From the safety of our stronghold defending the river, we could all see this was a fools errand. This camp was lined with walls of stone filled with archers, clad in rusty iron armour and armed with jagged blades and arrows as ugly as their faces.

My voice echoed around the halls of Minas Tirith. It was preposterous what they would have us do. This was not well received. They scorned the fact I had an opinion which went against their orders and punished me with an extreme warning. Purge the camp or the families of fifty men will suffer the consequences. Eyes full of anger I left the halls, negelecting my usual courteous bow, with several eyes piercing the back of my head.

My men weren't stupid. They could read me like a book and knew what had happened as if they had been watching. My trembling voice could only instruct them to go home to their families and meet at noon east of the river. I lay alone that night at an inn, unable to sleep. I had not given any words of encouragement or left any hope with my battalion. Unable to sleep I played some of my favourite songs using the clarinet under the bed. This was soothing and I no longer looked through eyes of rage. Falling to sleep was easy now but my dreams were troubled.

I woke up early and surprisingly refreshed. My stunning white horse was stabled nearby the inn so I had plenty of time to spare. A local band was playing to an almost empty room so I asked if I could buy their services to play for us later on. They took my piece of gold and walked off to prepare.

I rode off towards Osgiliath. As expected and intended I was the first there. In groups of two or three people turned up and respectfully nodded. Fear burning their eyes, for now I just stood straight and spoke in my usual, confident voice. Each of us where burdened only by a pack with our weapons and armour. Each of our steeds had shiny coats and did not know the dangers ahead of them. As a captain and a skilled metal smith, I was allowed to craft the armour of our battalion. We all had the symbol of a white tree woven into out deep blue cloaks, and etched into our chest pieces whether they were made from steel or leather. The sunlight glistened from the heavy armour of the champions and guardians wearing polished plates of steel broken by dashes of blue undergarment in places where manoeuvrability was essential. For everyone else who did not wish for the burden of heavy armour it was the royal blue that shone through hidden in places by steel bracers, shoulder pads and hints of it on their chest an legs.

We were all prepared. Wielding fine weaponry crafted in Gondor, or handed down to us from older generations, each of us looked unique despite our matching armour. Silently I lead them outside the safety of the walls, in view of our target. All us riding elegantly with heads held high as we were taught, though their eyes were filled with dread. We formed a line, twenty-five riders long, two lines thick. Patrolling up and down the ranks I shouted at the top of my voice.

â€œToday, on the edge of the great city our fathers have built, we have been called to defend the great walls. The enemy think they can get a foothold in our lands and are laughing behind their stone walls. We are few, but we have proven our valour over and over again. I would not choose 500 men over this fighting force. Walls can be climbed, their arrows are blunt and our armour strong. Their aim is sloppy and they are reckless and leave flanks exposed. Why fear the rusted armaments of the enemy, control your emotions and send them into the tip of your weapon and they will find enemy flesh. We do not need the vantage point! We are the solid fighting force of Gondor and the enemy will fear our charge. Raise your hearts, share my hope! For today, we slay some orc!!

A mighty cheer erupts from within the crowd and the rest join in, rattling the earth with the sound of their voices and the rumble of metal hitting metal. I raise my sword above my head and the rumble is met by music from the band atop the walls. Drums, horns, therobos shake the ground with a powerful song none had heard before. My army raised their weapons and cheered some more. Morale was high, it was time.

I pulled on the reins and my horse stood heroically on its two hind legs. I pointed the tip of my blade towards the enemy and let out a mighty cry. Our horses picked up great speed though remained in their ranks. I joined the front line close to the centre. Music was still ringing in our ears, each of us were eager. We were close enough now to count the orcs patrolling the wall. There were many, we did not stop. They were well aware of our assault and had almost completed lining up their defence. I pulled out my horn and played my loudest rallying call. Others copied my example and the skies were filled with a devastating sound. We were in range of the archers yet they did not fire, preparing for a volley no doubt. A little closer and a few arrows were fired into my comrades. I could hear a couple of horses fall and the screams of men but did not stop. The archers were disorganised. It seemed that fear had caused them to fire at will destroying the possibility to unleash a highly effective volley of arrows. Though still we were falling fast and had not made any kills. The wall was close, and I needed a way over. The wall was cracked but it would take time to climb and id be exposed. Without thinking I stood on the saddle of my steed and leapt at the wall. Chapter One of Dynnagorns journey; Charge of the Fifty

I was in. The speed of my jump forced an orc to fall backwards over the lip of the wall. Arrows were aimed at me but not one took the time to aim, they were killing each other in the crossfire. I held my blade menacingly above my head and ran along the ledge the archers where standing on. In fear, they jumped from the edge either deeper into the camp or into my army if they were restricted. My remaining men had gathered into a brilliant formation which defended them from arrows and allowed horseback archers to pick off those still on the wall. There were few who tried to halt my own charge but they met my blade. I saw the mechanism that raised the gate. It was a fair drop from the wall to the contraption. Its operator drew his blade and I leaped at him from above. Parrying his blade mid flight I planted my foot in his face, cushioning my decsent and dispatching the enemy. I had seen this door design before and knew that cutting the rope would release the lock. It worked. I span round and fell to my knees, a blade met my face and excruciating pain pounded from my right eye. I was faced with the spear of an orc and was unable to defend myself.

The spear made an odd noise as it was swung at my neck. It was not crafted to perfection like the weapons of Gondor, it was jagged and full of impurities. The doors crashed open behind me and immediately arrows hit the orc. I was saved. Lifting my head I was unable to fight though watching the battle, not one of us died inside the walls. Twenty three of us remained, no orcs were breathing. One of my soldiers helped me to the wall. We were met with the sight of the grand black gates safeguarding the land of Mordor.

Would that be our next trophy for accomplishing such a daring mission? I ordered the men to ride to Bree. With regrets I look back at the city my fathers fathers built. Am I a defiler? Have I turned my back on what is right? Was saving the lives of 23 men the right thing to do?

The journey north is another adventure.

Chapter Two of Dynnagorns journey; Return of the Twenty-Three

The grass is always greener? I certainly hoped so as our ride north was in no way enjoyable. Over rough terrain we plodded along, stirring uncomfortably in our saddles. No one had much to say, either uncertain that we were doing the right thing or bored at the sight of horse ears the journey was boring.

I was not really paying any attention to the sights we came across on our journey. This I deeply regret and wish to retrace my steps some day to take in these foreign lands.

We came upon a small camp of goblins. If I carried a ranged weapon or contributed to the attack in anyway I might have bothered remembering the event but all I recall is one volley of arrows and a quick looting session.

Pillaging small camps like this fed our way through to Eriador, past the Gap of Rohan and across vast fields and farms of the Rohirrim. There was a steady path leading all the way to Bree, the bustling market town of the north. A meeting place for all races providing news from the surrounding lands and work.

Upon reaching the greenway, we all seemed a little livelier. We knew from books of Gondor the existence and location of our destination, and upon reaching the South Barrows we knew we had finally arrived. We all paused.

Having not said a word for the past few days, my voice was a little croaky and weak. “We have reached the place where we can finally make a difference. No more needless deaths, no more pointless objectives. We can not bee seen together as news that twenty-three soldiers of Gondor have marched into Bree will not go unnoticed. Let us reintroduce ourselves into comfortable living here. Then we can once more serve the free peoples of Middle Earth, in a way that will make Sauron fear us! You no longer serve for a greedy man, let our freedom inspire those around us. Let us strike the enemy with the courage of our hearts, and not the fear for our homelands. Men, our paths will one day meet, and then, we will be indestructible!”

None of us knew the area, we all felt awkward but in small groups we started out in different directions. I waited behind a little while to make sure no one followed me anymore. This was not as hard as I thought it would be. A lot of stress comes from being a leader. Everyone expects so much of you, people begin to depend on you and rely on you to put on a happy face. My shoulders instantly lightened.

Knowing I would soon need food and rest, I set out looking for an inn. I came across the fabled Prancing Pony and was sidetracked. Just outside its walls was a band of not only men, but hobbits and elfs, playing an interesting array of instruments. Creating sounds which combined into inspirational music, sending me almost into a trance. I stayed for hours outside in the cold, cheering, clapping, and laughing. When it was all over they invited me to share a drink with them inside the inn.

This was my first contact with the Order of the White Flame. The start of something great. The author of many more of my stories

Friends and Enemies