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Email: quibby@dragonmount.com

DescriptionEdit

Eye Color: blue-gray
Hair Color: dark blond
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 150
Age: 16
Place of Origin: Shienar

StatsEdit

Rank: Trainee
Weaopon Score: 5
Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet
Primary Weapon:
Secondary Weapon:
Tertiary Weapon:

HistoryEdit

Description: Jhara Sarumeki is a bit shorter than most Shienarans his age. He is lean and light on his feet, though, and many would consider him rather handsome, but not stunning. He is suprisingly strong from working in fields and on local construction for extra money. His eyes hide a mind incomparable to his peers. He spent most of his time from a young age reading, broadening his intelligence. His intelligence, though, was like curse in disguise. As it increased, he drew further into himself, making trust a hard thing to earn from him and making it very difficult, just short of impossible, for Jhara to interact with his peers.


History: Jhara's father, Toran, was in the Borderwatch until an injury forced him into early retirement. His mother, Elmena, was the villiage's seamstress. From an early age, Jhara was entertained by stories from his father about campaigns in the Blight, and his mother often read to him. As Jhara grew, he made a connection between what his mother was saying and the black marks in the books. From there, he puzzled out how to read. In between random tasks in the villiage and war stories, Jhara could often be found under a tree with a book. If it had letters in it, it was fair game, but changes began to come over Jhara. Old friends slowly became estranged. He spent less and less time listening to his father's stories. Jhara had begun to collapse in on himself.

On his 16th name day, Toran decided to try and end Jhara's self-enforced exile by teaching him the sword. Due to his somewhat smaller physique, though, learning the Shienaran two-handed sword proved impossible. Jhara simply didn't have the height and endurance to swing the long, heavy blade. However, a smaller lath sword did the trick, and soon the duo were swinging away, one with a grace that belied his injury, one with the awkward movements of an apprentice.

During the day, Jhara did his random tasks around the villiage, then in the evening, he worked the more basic sword forms with his father, and at night, he read. His interests had changed, and Jhara was reading anything that had to do with swords. It was in one of these books that he came across stories about Aes Sedai and their Warders, fearsome men who could make a blade dance to whatever tune they chose. Here was where Jhara's first dreams of becoming a Warder were set into motion.

After a few months of training and reading, Jhara's mind was finally made up. That night, he told his parents that he was going to Tar Valon to train with the Warders. The reactions were not what he expected.

"You are too young to be going off into the world on your own!" was the basic argument his mother used, while his father sat in silence. Disappointment filled his eyes. Toran had hoped that his son would take his place in the Borderwatch, and he had just seen those dreams dashed into pieces. "If that is what you want," was all he said. Those were the last words Toran ever said to his son.

In the middle of the night three nights later, his heart heavy with sorrow, Jhara quietly left his home, leaving almost all his belongings and a scrawled note. He went to the nearest town on the river and paid passage to Tar Valon with tears still in his eyes. As the ship set sail, Jhara stared at his homeland and silently swore never to let himself become close enough to anyone to be hurt again. The walls he had begun tearing down several months past were back up, and reinforced with steel.

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