Name: Demus Nolorean
Age: 18
Born: Amadacia
Parents: His mother was Domani and his father was an Andoran Child of Light.
Hair: Blonde, curling up at the nape of his neck when he lets it grown long. Typically he keeps it shoulder length.
Eyes: Dark Blue
Height: 5’11”
Build: Athletic on the slightly muscular side
Appearance and Clothing: He has the hair and eyes of an Andoran, but the copper skin of his Domani mother that gives him a slightly exotic look.
Background: His Mother was a younger daughter in a large family. She ran off when she was young because of a falling out with her family. She traveled a while, living off what money she had been able to take, and then off the kindness of strangers. When had fallen ill when a young man found her and took care of her. He was a Child of Light. He believed in the good that the Children did and when he found her he felt it was his duty to take care of her until she was back on her feet. She regained her health slowly and as she gained strength she began helping him in small ways. In the end, they fell in love (although many of his peers believed she was just using him) and he married her. They had only one child. When ???? was 12 his father was killed in a riding accident. He and his mother were well taken care of, but she couldn’t stand to live in Amadacia any longer. She had lived with her husband for love, but with him gone she wanted to go home. She took her son back with her to Arad Doman.
Refusing to wed again, she became a cook for a Tavern. It was clean and well run, the inn keeper a good man who kept the patrons in line but allowed them to have their fun. He favored his mother but never pressed an advantage that he could see. Her son became well known there as well, living on her apron strings so to speak, at first. He was fascinated by the openness of the people, having been surrounded by the often narrow minded Children. He missed the Children of the Light and their discipline, the camaraderie of the soldiers who his father had often taken him around. His mother sensed his sadness and decided she needed to intervene. She had no daughters to pass on the womanly arts, but she decided she would raise a son that all women would love. She began teaching him the arts and, needing something to turn his keen mind onto, he learned quickly.
Often at odds with the teaching the Children of the Light had given him, he nonetheless embraced it. The Children had been good to them as a family, but he had often heard comments about Domani women among the men when his father wasn’t around to hear them and no one noticed him sneaking around the corners. It wasn’t right that these men who claimed to walk in the light would smile to her face and wish her well as they talked viciously behind her back. It was his first taste of hypocrisy and he never outgrew his dislike of it.
In Arad Doman he learned other things as well. He had been taught by the Children to see the signs of Dark Friends. In Arad Doman he found them in truth. There were no overt signs, nothing that glared for someone else to find. A friend, someone he had grown close to, someone he trusted and believed good of. He was 14 by the time he recognized the signs and instead of calling him out and drawing the Dragon fang on his door, he watched. It was intriguing and his mind couldn’t help but work through this mystery. How could a good person be a Darkfriend? If this Dark friend was evil, then what of the men he had known were good, but spoke nasty things behind others backs? It confused his idea of good and evil to the point that he needed to seek both out to find the answer.
In the end, his searching led to one answer. There is no good or evil. There is only strength and weakness. The Children were ‘good’ because they were too strong for people to claim otherwise, just as the Tar Valon witches were. Though he thought little of them as witches as his initial teaching had claimed. He was simply a man trying to find his way. His search for the dark was successful as well and he was introduced, in the beginning to small things. Slight of hand. Cons. He was rarely in trouble or into anything serious until his mother’s death at the age of 16. The inn keeper that had been so keen to help his mother and let them live in a small room behind the inn threw him out without a second glance. He had barely had time to grab his own coat. As he watched the inn a week later, the new cook came out wearing one of his mother’s bracelets.
The hypocrisy turned him to hate and the man that had claimed to care deeply for his slowly plumping cook had paid for turning out her son and giving her things to people that would never care who she had been. That night he stole into their old quarters and killed the new woman. He took their things and stashed them away so they wouldn't get damaged, then returned for the Inn keeper. It was simple enough to drag his unconscious body from the Inn and into the small quarters in the back. He put them both into the bed and they never got out again. His first foray into the art of poison.
Weapons he had learned with the Children and now he trained in new ones, daggers in the night, poison in the cup, falls and ‘raids’ that gave him money but little in the way of compensation for meaning in his life. Then someone whispered to him about the Dark One. The Great Lord that would give wealth and power and yes… for someone like him… even a purpose. The Darkfriend he knew revealed the name of a place he might go to train harder, to become better, to give meaning to a life that had, from the age 12, become meaningless.
Strengths/Weaknesses: He’s a fast learner and a smart talker. Very laid back and willing to learn new things. He isn’t closed minded about things, but he is judgmental. He will listen to what you have to say but he will judge you on the spot for it.
He loves women and has always been able to woo where he wanted and has had little failure in that regard. His mother taught him well and women seem to recognize his honest adoration. Of course, this is two sided as well, since he sees women as only two things: his mother or the new cook. The saint or the shrew.
He gets along well with most, and if anyone knew him they would hardly thing he was a Darkfriend. He’s the kind of guy you go get drinks with at the Tavern, the kind you ask to look after your sister when you have to travel, or to be at your side when a fight’s brewing. He’s an average guy who seems too laid back to be into anything more serious than a game of dice.