- Amroth Ol'Hir (Amroth, the Sleeping Lord) Last Heir to the House of Caran-Rhaw
- Culture: Elf of Mirkwood - A Noble Blood
- Standard of Living: Martial
- Cultural blessing: Folk of the Dusk
- Calling: Warden Shadow weakness: Lure of Power
- Specialties: Mistrelsy, Elven Lore, Shadow Lore
- Distinctive features: Lordly, Swift
- Body: 4 Heart: 4 Wits: 6
- Body (favoured): 7 Heart (favoured): 6 Wits (favoured): 7
- Personality (***)
- Awe: 3
- Inspire: 0
- Persuade: 0
- Movement (***)
- Athletics: 3
- Travel: 2
- Stealth: 2
- Perception (**)
- Awareness: 2
- Insight: 2
- Search: 1+2
- Explore: 0
- Healing: 1
- Hunting: 1
- Custom (**)
- Song: 2
- Courtesy: 2
- Riddle: 0
- Vocation (**)
- Craft: 0
- Battle: 3
- Lore: 3
- (Spears): 2
- Sword: 1
- Dagger: 1
- Fell Spear (+2 to injury rating)
- Keen Spear (-1 to edge)
- Resilience (+2 Endurance)
- Olosil, Ashen [Spear] damage: 5 edge: 8 injury: 16 enc: 2 special: none
- Elven Leaf-Bladed [Dagger] damage: 3 edge: G injury: 12 enc: 0
- The [Great Shield] of Caran-Rhaw parry: +3 enc: 5
- Elven Polished Leather Cuirass [Leather Corselet] protection: 2d enc: 8
- Livery of Caran-Rhaw (a white runic emblazoned with a red lion, and a red cloak.)
- The 3 Beryl Ring
- Fatigue & Endurance
- Endurance: 28 Starting Endurance: 28
- Fatigue from Encumbrance: 15 Fatigue from Travel: 0 Total Fatigue: 15
- Default Journey Role: Look-out Man
- Hope & Shadow
- Hope: 11 Starting Hope: 12
- Temporary Shadow: 5 Permanent Shadow: 0 Total Shadow: 5
- Protection & Damage
- Armour: 2d Headgear: +0
- Parry: 9 (6 without shield)
- Damage: 5 (+4) Ranged: 5 (+4)
- Experience & Advancement
- Wisdom: 2 Valour: 3
- Experience: 13 Total Experience: 12 Experience/Advancement Audit
- Fellowship: 9 Advancement: 15 Treasure: 11 (21 silver pence) Standing: 0
- Fellowship Focus: Bjarndor Sanctuaries: Home, Beorn's Hall, Woodland Hall
"I am old, as counted by the reckoning of mortals.
I was born in late in the second age, as recorded by the Seers of Numenor, shortly after the sinking of the star-shaped realm. Those were troubled years, when the Dark Lord of Middle-earth had risen up to great power and his shadow and threat loomed over the land. I was born a Prince among the Elves of the Greenwood, and many long years we loved and laughed and danced in the glory of the Glade.
When Sauron made his war at the end of the second age, my father took all my brothers and the warriors from our fief, and answered Gil-Galad's call to fight alongside the faithful of the men, led by Elendil the Tall and his proud sons. I was too young to join them, deemed not yet full grown and come into my own strength. None returned. I was left alone, heir to an empty fief, save for my mother. I lingered for a time, in her sorrowful presence, and I confess that I considered taking the white ship. It was in those early days of the third age that I sought vengance, and my mind and my character grew more rigid; I studied and practiced war for the time when I would be tasked to pick up a weapon against the shadow. I looked upon the vast and sacred armaments of my father and his fathers; I beheld their glory and fine craftsmanship, and wondered at the time when I would wield them. But that time never came.
Some many years later, my mother, overcome with bitter loneliness and sorrow, declared to me that she would leave Middle-earth, and she did. And though I struggled with the decision to pass along with her (for my heart was also heavy with grief and doubt), I still felt that it was not yet my time to do so. Something still pulled at me, and beckoned me to stay in the Greenwood. So I decided I would sleep, and rest, and dream, after the fashion of mortals. It was the 1,000th year of the third age of Middle-earth. It was fair and golden and the leaves were green upon the trees, the day that I lay myself down for rest.
And I slept for a long time.
And I did not wake up.
Until, that is, something stirred inside me. And now I know, though I did not at the time, that it was the Shadow and the menace, moving silently about the roots and burroughs of my woodland realm. It was only in my slumber that I was attuned enough to the spirit of the Greenwood to know what it was, and who it was.
I awoke to find that the world had changed. Two thousand years had passed. I was weak and slow, diminished, but well rested and healed of my sorrows. I awoke in my house far in the heart of what was now called the Mountains of Mirkwood, a stone Elven tower lost to the annals of time, or thought over-run. My family's line and generations and heirs had been presumed dead or lost. And moreover, I awoke to find that Oropher's realm had shrank and diminished, and now belonged to Thranduil. When I had recovered my strength, I announced myself to him, my liege-lord and King, and I told him of my dreams and my slumber; and upon hearing my witness, he bade me to go West -to find the Lord of Birds called Thorglad, Eagle of the Forest, and tell him of my dreams and to both give and take counsel on the matter.
And so I collected the trapping of my lord-father - now long since dead on the Fields of Ash - still bright and glittering, for they had not tainted or soured with age. I secured the key to Caran-Rhaw about my neck, and I resolved to put an end to this shadow.
Like the Khazad of old, I was begat too early. But my slumber is over, and now my purpose is come."
More About Amroth:
The White Ships You Turned Loose
A Prayer to Ulmo for Safe Passage
The Conversation Between Radagast and Amroth