Character Name: Jidar Faerun
Email address: email@example.com
Physical Description: 5' 8", 164lbs., Green eyes, Brown hair, which is almost always in two braids, down to his waist, and have bells in them, in the Arafellin style. Has the coppery skin of a Domani, but a solid, rather than willowy, build.
Place of Birth/Raising: Arafel
Character History: Jidar was born to a Arafellin merchantman and a Domani merchantwoman, who were both very successful in their own right, and had married as a business venture. One couldn’t precisely say Jidar was an Arafellin, even if they had been in Arafel at the time of his birth, as his mother had significant influence in both his eduacation and his childhood. Of course, his father had as well, which caused a very odd mixture to appear. He chose to style himself in the Arafellin manner, but perhaps that was not so much because of any deliberate influence than that he had seen his father so often that he thought that was how a man ought to look. He also thought that the tinkle of the bells were very soothing.
Jidar’s childhood was good. He never had to worry about food or clothing, and if maybe he was a bit hungry for affection, he did get enough attention, once he proved old enough to learn. His parents taught him to read, mathematics, and the art of trading. Jidar proved very skilled at book keeping, and by the time he was sixteen he was put in charge of what was then becoming a trading empire’s books for some real life experience. After keeping track of them for a year, he soon became bored, and decided to try something that was not wholly ethical but was certainly interesting. Embezzlement. He didn’t need the money, but he thought it would be interesting to do. After six months and a harsh whipping from one of his father’s more burly guards, Jidar decided that, while it might be interesting to do, and the punishment might be interesting, very painful, of course, but interesting nonetheless, embezzling might not be the best thing to relieve boredom. After speaking with his parents about it, they decided it was time for him to start interacting with the customers.
After four months of that, and fifty gold crowns lost, Jidar decided that he wasn’t very good at that particular part of trading. Luckily for him, in that regard, he wasn’t meant to be a merchant. Two weeks after the fourth month rolled by, the merchant train he was currently traveling with was attacked by bandits. Unfortunatly, they were currently in a hollow in a forest, next to a road but surrounded by trees, and the merchant guards were cut down by arrows. The bandits then proceeded to advance and surround the train, cutting down anyone that got in their way, uncaring whether it be a merchant guard that hadn’t been shot or a merchant fleeing.
Jidar looked around at the chaos around him. He’d been traveling with this train for four months, after his parents decided to have him deal with merchants after he’d proved untrustworthy with the books. At any other time, that thought would have made him wince, as it had hundreds of times the past months. But at the moment, all he could see were the people currently being slaughtered in front of him. People he had known. There was Sara, lying face down on the ground. He could see blood seeping from her back from the sword that had gone through her body. She had chosen a bad direction to run. She had even seen the sword that had gone right through her heart, as she was looking behind her. She had always been full of good cheer, and had wanted to be a healer instead of a trader. She had actually given him something for his back, as he’d arrived while the welts were still stinging. And there fell Omer, from a cut throat. Jidar watched blankly as Omer tried to staunch his life’s blood with his good arm. The other had been shot by an arrow in the initial attack. Omer was a merchant guard. Said he had been for years. He’d begun teaching Jidar swordplay, on the grounds that he looked so sickly for such a young lad. That made sense, since Jidar had been bookkeeping for around a year and a half and hadn’t gone outside much. His parents were very successful, and Jidar had even needed two assistants to keep up.
But for the moment, Jidar wasn’t bookkeeping. Nor was he practicing swordplay, or running. He was standing still, frozen by the fact that he was going to die, and everyone with him was going to die. He was suddenly ripped from his thoughts as he felt a hand grasp his neck. He was lifted off his feet, and he gazed at the face of his soon-to-be killer. There was a cold purpose in it. A dagger went towards his face, and he realized that he wasn’t going to die. He was going to be blinded. Jidar couldn’t close his eyes as he saw the point of the dagger go for his left by now he couldn’t see the end with his right eye, and realized it was about to happen. He was finally loosed from his stasis and screamed. He closed his eyes as a deafening sound filled the hollow and he was released from the grasp of the bandit. Falling to his side, he curled himself into a ball and started rocking, waiting to die.
After several moments without death striking down on him, he opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around with disbelief. Everywhere it looked like a great forest fire had struck. The earth was scorched, the wagons were blackened shells, and the people looked like they had been badly overcooked. At that thought he leaned to the side and emptied the current contents of his stomache. Then he thought about the implications of this evidence of a forest fire, and began to throw up again. Unfortunatly, his stomache was emptied from the earlier preformance. He could channel. He was going to go insane and die. For a second he thought of the Black Tower. He’d heard many rumors about it. Then he dismissed the idea of going there. He had long decided that the Black Tower was a sham of the White Tower, to catch men who channel without hunting them down. All those feats claimed could easily be used if an Aes Sedai just happened to be in the crowd. But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to run. He also had to die here. Now that his mind was focused on a problem, he could set aside the terror that was currently trying to overwelm him. There was nothing that could be used, he found out after searching each wagon. It had all been burned. But the plus was that all the bodies were unidentifiable. If he weren’t found alive, he’d be assumed dead. He’d have to travel through the woods, but he could follow the road, so long as no one saw him. He was lucky, too. The wagons had been heading for Ebou Dar. He should be able to get there in five days, and by then he’d be able to hide until he’d bean declared dead. He might have to change his hair, though.
Two days after Jidar learned he could channel, he was struck down by a fever. It lasted for two days, but luckily a farmer helped him, saying Jidar reminded him of his son, and Jidar survived. He reached Ebou Dar nine days later than he had thought he would, as a series of trivial events occured which slowed him down. He managed to find work as a bookkeeper after two weeks of searching, after he’d cut his hair and traded his fine clothes for old and food enough to last three weeks, if he rationed right.
He stayed in Ebou Dar for six month. Then he met Rojor T’eal. Rojor T’eal was thirty-seven, and had been channeling for twenty-three of those years. He had learned enough to control his channeling and to recognize it in others. He talked to Jidar to ask if he knew that he could channel. After a lengthy discussion, he offered to teach Jidar to channel. Enough to control it, at least. Jidar quickly agreed. After eight months of rigorous training, he had mastered what Rojor called the Oneness, and was able to grasp saidin everytime he tried. He could not, however, differentiate between the different weaves, nor manipulate the flows perfectly. Rojor assured him that it would come in time as the lessons progressed. Unfortunatly, that was not to happen. Aes Sedai had found out about Rojor and had taken him to the White Tower to be gentled.
Jidar ran for Caemlyn. As he went, he grew his hair back to the length it had been, and put it into the proper style. He had to differentiate himself from everything that was the same to the friend of Rojor T’eal. When he finally reached Caemlyn, he looked like a proper Arafellin. And he decided that channeling wouldn’t save him from an Aes Sedai. He needed something that couldn’t be stopped by sheilding. So he headed for the Queen’s palace. He’d become a guard and learn to swordfight. Then he wouldn’t be helpless if he couldn’t channel.
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