Legends of Belariath



Well over six feet, this God seems to own a wealth of muscles along arms and legs, and yet he is not encumbered by them. His very presence radiates a need to worship, awe inspiring. Locks of white to swipes of grey invade, a hearty smile and laughter that rings and echoes. His eyes of blue are captivating and encouraging, strong of Will and such shows easily when one is ever gifted to look upon him. A strong jaw with firm lips and a bit of a beard neatly trimmed but just as hearty as He. Let us not forget that because AdenVer is so strong and tall that he chooses to wear the pelts of the animals heís killed. A cloak of the bear, dark brown, thick and luxurious to the touch, sturdy boots and leather leggings that cling to all those taut muscles. Wide belt that encircles a lean waist with the head of the bear upon it. And as always he is holding two axes with a grip that denotes this God knows perfectly well, how to swing them.


With a hearty laugh and a swing of his double axes, this Hero of old was leveled into being by the other Gods and is slowly gaining a foothold to those that follow a more warring path in their lives. Simple in mind in how one steps forth, his gifts of strength and level headedness don't go remiss in any battle. A true gift of seeing any tactical situation; and out maneuvering the enemy.

Place of Worship: Lodge of Strength

Considering AdenVer was never large on acquiring great lockers of treasure, only women, he filled his home at one time with the laughter of slave girls and the scents of their perfumes. From silks to finery only for them, his own rooms were kept sparse away from his harem. A simple well built Log home, high ceilings, a vastness to it where one could breath just outside the hustle and bustle of Town. One would find few benches and more heavy wooden chairs. Many weapons along walls and leaning upon a raised dais where one may leave their offerings but he requires very little other than to see your Strength of will and arms.

History of the death and Rise of AdenVer

Not everyone is special upon their birth. Not everyone rises to power. There are struggles and hardships and brief moments in time where you are happy, or gain what you most wanted. AdenVer was a studious child to begin with, his life within a small village with simple minded parents was hardly any different from anotherís, but one night did change his own way of living. Goblins raided only the outskirts of villages to towns, cackling with glee as they moved from one situation to the next. All the men had taken up weapon and moved in to drive them out and usually the death or two of the annoying green creatures was enough to drive them off until the next time. AdenVer had come of age where his brawny frame and hearty chuckle were well liked by the girls, twittering at his heels, wondering if he'd notice. He'd never however, taken up the axe or sword for killing purposes; he found them more a game, until that night. Sophile, a more favored of the girls that refused to follow him like a puppy had become more a fascination than a grip to bottom could satisfy. That he'd tripped over her prone dead body had snapped something within the boy of old and turned him... into a man. Boyish charm evaporated and rage filled him. The fights were simple enough for goblins were simple enough creatures, but he made it his job to take the hand axe from the back of the girl he'd most wanted and used her blood to anoint handle as well as blade and crazily chased down each and every goblin that had dared come to his village that night.

As you can imagine this didn't take a night, but several years. Years of learning to track down his enemies. Years to learn names, years to learn a better skill with the axe. And not just one, but two. Until the last of them could be found. Aye, the man had a definite need to finish a task started now, but with his wanderings had come knowledge. A great deal of it. And as well, he'd met more then his fair share of women and men alike that helped advance his techniques. To learn where the hit would count most. To stand in the face of adversity. But all these things still did not make him special for he had yet to settle down. Yet to make the world shiver in his grasp. Another striving need that gripped him. He no longer had need to chase along green creatures but somehow their demise didn't make him feel any better, the experience however, had.

He'd taken his axes and life and the style he'd come to understand to a new town. A new way of life to carve himself. Home was built by his own two hands. Adversaries were many and many; he knew enough to wait, to gain over them and then plunder them dry. He'd begun creating a name for himself. Followers. Slowly but surely he began taking in chosen slaves. Wealth acquired but nothing in great amounts. He'd learned to live with his mistakes and still move forward on plans. He'd also learned to laugh again, but now... now he was more whole. More attuned to what was out there, and how he could make it work for himself.

He began teaching his ways to those that came on bended knee to him. Never forget the Gods, never forget that the cold of steel was an extension of arm and body. Never forget that your woman and slaves are what made you touchable. Never forget to step wisely.. and they learned and grew but none grew to such a height in stories as AdenVer. He began traveling, taking in more students to the trade. Offering to help build forges.. to slave training facilities. Yet nothing wholly satisfied. Always did he continue onwards even to the day where the grey had become white and thick within locks. And still, through all the wrinkles attained to the many scars of battles both in and out of the bedchamber. He never forgot his meager beginnings and made sure none that took to his lot in life would either. Many a Bard had created heroic songs of the man, though at times one could hardly call him such. He fought only on HIS side. Sometimes a mercenary view. And on the day that he died. The Gods granted the man the one thing he could never attain... everlasting life. They raised him up, they listened to him and they placed him within their midst to continue what he had begun. But now... now he could reach more and further. Now... his ways could be chosen by many to follow. The white locks remained. The stalwart stance of his big body well over six feet and his strength and Will definitely were felt everywhere.