Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Dark brown/Black
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 170
Age: 18
Place of Origin: Baerlon, Andor


Rank: Trainee
Weaopon Score: 6
Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet
Primary Weapon:
Secondary Weapon:
Tertiary Weapon:


Dorian quickly hid out of sight, in the hay loft, as a man and woman entered. Not wishing to discovered, he lay still and quiet, cursing his own bad luck. Letting his mind wander, he recalled the sounds and smells of the inn his parents owned and ran in Baerlon, the Long Ride. It was a warm homey place. Baerlon hardly felt like home anymore. Just after his 17th birthday, the city had encountered a sudden influx of Whitecloaks, which intimidated and bullied the inhabitants, and made the once bright bustling city, one full of fear and resentment.

During this time, Dorian's older brother Imman, became friends with some of the whitecloaks. He soon became obsessed with hunting Darkfriends... even turning on his own friends. Imman eventually joined the Children of the Light. When he threatened to turn their own mother over to the Questioners, Dorian became outraged, and fought his brother. Dorian was quite agile and strong, but was outmatched by his brother. If only he had had a staff or belt knife handy! With those he felt much safer. At one point he knocked his brother offguard, and took the chance to flee. For the past 3 weeks, Dorian had been in hiding. His attack on his brother had led to continual searches by other whitecloaks, looking to bring him to justice. Only at night did he dare leave the relative safety of the run down stable, and only then to get food. His father had taught him to be a skilled tracker, and so far he had avoided leaving a trail. He had not seen anyone come near the stable in all his time hiding out here, believing it to be abandoned.

Dorian felt a trickle of sweat drip down the side of his face, as the soft murmuring from below abruptly stopped. Hardly daring to breathe, Dorian listened intently for the door to creak. After several minutes, there was still no sound. Dorian's legs started to cramp. Biting back the pain, he carefully shifted his legs, and almost moaned when a small amount of hay drifted over the edge of the loft.

He stiffened as the woman's voice called out "Show yourself boy." Deperately needing to stretch his aching legs, he sighed, and slowly sat up and peered over the edge. The woman was staring up at him with an expressionless face. Shimmering black hair fell to her waist, framing a beautiful oval face. On first look, Dorian thought she was quite young, but her eyes seemed older, wiser. Alongside her stood a large, dangerous looking man, with a face set like stone. His hand was resting almost casually on his sword hilt, and his cloak seemed to change colour and blend into the walls, even as he watched.

"Come down boy. We mean you no harm." Dorian eyed them warily. The woman looked so composed, and her dress was a fine cut. She must be a noble. But why would a noble hide in a barn?

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Dorian matched her stare with one of his own. Impatience flashed in the woman's eyes. "I am Clarine. This is Ulrich. Now do you mind coming down and telling me why you've been hiding in this barn for weeks?" She looked at his dirty, slept in clothes. "Unless I am mistaken?" She raised an eyebrow. With a sigh, Dorian climbed down. "Ulrich, give the poor boy some food. He looks half starved!" Dorian took the bread and cheese Ulrich offered him gratefully. "What's your name, boy?" Clarine asked

Dorian gave his name...and before he knew it, he had told his whole sorry tale. "I'll be damned if I will ever be so helpless again!" He said gruffly. "You are in a difficult situation Dorian, as are we. In return for your help, we can ensure you receive the best training possible. The same training Ulrich here received. But, we need your assistance also." Dorian eyed her carefully." What do you need of me?" He asked. "We need to reach Tar ever, we wish to avoid risking a run-in with the Children of the Light. If you can help us find a back way out of the city, we shall in return see to you being trained at Tar Valon." Dorian stared at her dumbfoundedly. "Tar Valon? But you must be...Are you an Aes Sedai?" Clarine nodded. "And Ulrich..." "He is my Warder." She answered. "And I can be trained as a warder?" Dorian asked. He had heard stories of warders in battle, hard, fearsome warriors. Possessing their skills, surely he would never be so helpless again. And he certainly couldn't continue to live in this manner. He no longer had a home.

"I will help you Aes Sedai." He said solemnly. "Let us hurry, while it is still dark." Dorian led them down back alleys, behind inns and shops, until he came to a hole in the outer wall or Baerlon. "Nobody knows of this place." He said, leading them through the gap. Ulrich led the pair of horses they had brought with them. "We will find you a horse along the way, Dorian." Said Clarine.

As they headed away, Dorian turned and watch the city fade into the distance. With silent farewell, he turned, and looked to his future, at Tar Valon.

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