by 
ASTORIAS THE ABYSSWALKER
Name: Astorias
Faction: ???
Rank: ???
Race: Numanorian/ half wraith
Culture: ???
Age: 72
Sex: male
Height: 7'2"
Weight: 145kg
Eyes: None
Hair: Black as Night
Skin: Soot stained white
Gold: 50 gold pieces
Distinguishing Marks: Moves slow and sluggishly.
Mage: Yes
---------------------------------------
STRENGTH:
Strong enough to chokeslam an Uruk-hai one handed
DEXTERITY:
Quick and explosive near elf like movements
CONSTITUTION:
Absolutely atrocious, as if suffering a terrible disease
INTELLIGENCE:
Sound
WILLPOWER:
Enough to claw his way out of hell
PERCEPTION:
Can see spirits,
CHARISMA:
Very low, he talks as though forced and desperate.
SPELLS:
-Lightning Bolt-
-Fire Ball-
-Enhance Speed-
-Iron Skin-
SKILLS AND TRAITS
Blades mastery:
Astorias is a smaster swordsman, though now weakened he has fallen far. Death is cruel, and he is held back by the plagues of the Abyss.
Horsemanship:
Just as proficiant on a mount as on the ground, he times and aims his strikes perfectly and lethally. Able to his even the subtlest cracks and gaps in enemy armour
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
-More than capable fighter-
-Powerful battlefield presence-
-Average Wizard-
-very confused-
-sluggish, tires easily-
-prone to elf magic-
GEAR
x2 Rohan cavalry swords
Class: Bastard hander
Make: Fair
x1 Steel Kite shield
Class: Med weight
Make: Fair
MOUNTS
Black halfbreed horse, Son of a Cart Horse and a Stallion, Strong, fast, and endurant. Mounted with iron mount armour, the horse is well cared for and well fed with a long mane.
PERSONALITY
Slightly desperate, and increadibly forced in his actions, as if he were in a great amount of pain or suffering from a powerful fever. His mind wanders into philisophical thought quite often, and is prone to bouts of short term sudden amnesia.
Though he is kind to wild things, and things which are powerful. Detesting humans and disguarding the individual as weak and pathetic. Believes the strong should cull the weak entirely, as there is nothing the strong can perform the weak cant.
BIOGRAPHY
Astorias, once the Iron Fist of Sauron, a powerful black Numenorean who was much higher prized for his strength with a blade than his skill of his magic, unlike those like Agandaur. Was a prized general and leader of the forces in the misty mountains for several years, he lead several charges and single handedly with a rag tag lot reclaimed Goblin town to where he held his main station. Tasked with the finding of the elf City Rivendel, he was never able to locate the mystical city no matter how many barriers he broke through or illusions he penetrated, there were always more in the woods to make up for them.
Winning small skirmish after small skirmish against the elven rangers of the area, as well as occasionally being driven back the black numenorean was well versed in the art of battle. Never really suffering a direct loss. Until he met Sif.
(artists depiction)
Sif in that time was not as collossal as he has grown in recent times. The Warg Sized Werewolf was something special, Astorias fought the creature for hours as it had caused fear amongst the goblins of Goblin-town, almost to the point that they feared the wolf more than even himself.
Once the battle drew to a head Astorias wounded Sif with lightning and Sif removed his sword arm in kind. Sif won, and with that winning Sif allowed the Black numenorean to life. They became friends in what Astorias thought was his final moments before healing over his wounds and asking the Werewolf if he would like to become tutored by him in the arts of the arcane.
The wolf was talented.
Possessed by a Maia and not an unclean spirit the wolf did not grasp the full point of magic, considering it merely visual he was increadibly adept in illusions, but he did pick up a few of the dark arts.
Magic made the wolf grow...
Now the Size of even the wolfkins' ancestor they rode into battle together. But on one fateful day, a Spear struck Astorias from the top of his mount, causing him to plummit to the earth, and his world went black...
Astorias, thought dead by the world, lived on, left in a decaying battlefield by Sif and by his army. Whom he would find out later through a historians recollection rallied the army after he fell. Astorias smiled at the thought, but it wasn't long before his curse ravaged his body. He had his second arm, and it seems through some ungodly magic he had come into being once more. But with no longer any magical ties to the Dark lord.
Infact, he'd almost completely forgotten his position, rank, and deeds he had commited before that day. Taking up armour lost on the battlefield, and a tattered cloak, he began to wander the wilds. Learning as he moved, but seemingly raved by a sickness which feels like black fire surrounding his soul.
He, is neither living nor dead, though he does not know it.
He no longer has a cause, though he searches for it.
No friends, but many foes.
And sees without eyes.
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