Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Blaonde
Place of Origin: Saldea
Special Features (Missing Limbs, Scars and such):
Weapon of Choice (Channelers automatically have the One Power as Primary): No Dachi
Secondary Weapon: Single handed mace
Tertiary Weapon (if a non-channeler): Staff
First two preferences for Talents:
He was born the oldest son of a horse trainer, and such knew how to ride almost before he could walk. His mother gave birth to two more boys and a litle girl before dying in childbirth giving life to a sick litle creature of a boy who died before the next day saw light. Hall was 8 at the time, his brothers 6 and 5 while his sister was but a todler at 2. They all grew an intrest in their fathers ocupation helping out with the buisnis, and as all borderlands from an early age was thougth to weild a sword, and to use some other weapons.
At 13 his city was visited by an Aes Sedai and he took an fasination in the warder that followed her, the man was stout, silent and looked like a beast traped in a body when you looked into his cold controled eyes.
He told his father he wanted to go to Tar Valon, his father and him agreed he would stay and help out till he was 18 so that all his siblings had time to grow up properly and have as good a shot of a proper future as he would have if he signed in to train and become a warder.
As the years passed he grew into a popular teen, he never had troubles finding girls to dance with at festiveties. The hard work with the horses gave him a good stance and muscles. He had several sweethart through the years, but though popular he was down to earth, and caring something he learned both from working with the horses but not the least from caring for his siblings.
When the day came that he was to leave his father did not only hold to the deal but gave him the finest horse in the stable, one he himself had helped train and name, wishing him luck and telling him to go make them all proud. His brothers had saved up money and bougth him sadlegear, and his sister had sewn him new clothes. It was with gratitude he left them wishing them the best of luck and promising to write at least once a year.
Then he rode out of the city on his redbrown stalion named Son of Fire both from the way its fur glistened in the sun and from the temperament. They held good pace toward Tar Valon, and the day he saw the White Tower rice in the horison with dragonmount behind he knew his life was about to start all over.