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DM Handle PrivateDuke

DescriptionEdit

Eye Color: Pale Green
Hair Color: Brown, cut short in Shienaran fashion but without the topknot
Height: 6'0
Weight: 215 lbs
Age: 19
Place of Origin: Shienar

StatsEdit

Rank: Trainee
Warder Weapon Score: 0
Paths and Disciplines: Not Chosen Yet
Primary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet
Secondary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet
Tertiary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet

HistoryEdit

“Burn me. . .”, the shining walls of Tar Valon, even from Daghain, a sight to steal a man’s breath. Kaidad Umoru had walked the streets of Fal Dara, seen the towers of Fal Moran on the horizon but never grandeur on this scale.

It has been a three week journey, past people and through places since leaving his family home East of Fal Dara. Since leaving his Father and three uncles, leaving the land his Father bled for.

His Father had been against Kaidad leaving for Tar Valon, he said his dreams of being a Warder were a fools notion and she should continue apprenticing with him and his uncles. Kaidad’s Father made his living through carpentry and lumber. Kaidad had been born with an axe in his hands and took to felling trees for his Fathers lumber by the time he was 10 years old. At 10 his Kaidad’s Father also began teaching him the sword, most of the evening after there work was done, was spent working forms with his Father and Uncles. All of whom fought at Ankor Dail years before in the Aiel War.

Kaidad’s lessons went well and he learned the sword quickly but in what spare time he could find, he devoted his idle hours to applying the forms his Father taught him with the long Claymore he wore proudly on his back, to his wood axe. In little time at all the simple tool that kept coin in his pockets became an instrument of death, his skill with the axe soon surpassed the sword and with his Fathers approval and continued training he learned to wield an axe nearly as deft as his mentors there swords.

Soon after Kaidad’s 15th nameday a group of Lancers from Fal Dara called at his home, they were chasing a routed Trolloc raid and wished to spend the night if they could. His Father agreed without hesitation, his mother made them all a simple meal of hash and hard bread and they were put up in the large wood bard, that lucky was empty after Kaidad’s uncle had taken a large wagon of lumber to Fal Dara. Kaidad was thrilled to have real Soldiers in his barn. His mother apologized frantically when he snuck into the barn to watch them, but the Captain simply said Kaidad reminded him of himself and that he could stay with them a while with her permission, Kaidad was beside himself with glee.

By the grace of his Father, Kaidad was allowed to stay with the Soldiers long past the time he would usually be sleeping. He marveled at there worn breastplates and razor sharp swords, swords made all the more incredible in that they were nearly identical to his but most of all he marveled at the curses his mother would have tanned his hide for. The night was cool and quiet and Kaidad soon fell asleep.

Some hours after the sun fell and the moon was high the Troop’s Captain laid a sleeping Kaidad on his saddle and covered him with his cloak. The night worn on, the Lancer’s rotated watch and Kaidad’s Uncle joined them with Brandy. The moon was approaching the horizon, and the first purple glow of sunrise was appearing when Kaidad was woken from a dream of hot bread and cabbage soup by a scream. It was a guttural, inhuman sound from the direction of the forest. He opened his eyes to see Armoured Lancers and some still in there shirt sleeves, all with blades bared, he heard them say Trolloc. Kaidad peeked from the barn, his Father and Uncles we walking half way from the house, they were stopped with swords drawn looking north, at a black broiling mass on the forest edge. Seven Trolloc heads were clearly visible, all snouts and horns, grunting and howling as then trotted towards the men.

“I was having a bloody good dream.” Muttered one Lancer,

“Steady up men!” Shouted the Captain, “Best stay here in the barn boy.” He said as he flashed a cool smile at Kaidad

Kaidad looked at the Trollocs, who had closed the distance to half of what it had been at his last glance, then he looked up to see his Mother at the door to his home, terror washed her face. And rage soon washed his. His axe, his lively hood was propped against a firewood pile across the barn, he moved for it at a trot. It was not a small tool, a haft nearly a two feet in length and a heavy steel head with a slight curve at an edge honed to a gleaming razor. He knew what must be done with it today.

He rounded the barn door at a run and met the cacophony and the horrible sights that flow from battle. Three Trollocs had fallen already, one with it’s head cloven from it’s shoulders, another with it’s guts emptied and one screaming with a huge clawed hand to it’s side. One of the Shienarans was down as well, a bolt like a spear through his hip. He had been taught well and he reacted quickly. The men’s numbers were uneven now, he looked for it. There! The lone man, his uncle Maru, he ran as fast as he ever had. His uncle grunted and glanced back when Kaidad bumped against his back.

“You were to stay in the barn boy.” Maru hissed as he stabbed.

“Forgive me Uncle.” Kaidad grunted as he swung his axe for the first time at living flesh.

Not until after the battle would the sensation register in his mind. The way it felt as his axe sunk itself to the haft in Trolloc stomach. He fought hard with his Uncle at his back, screaming and swinging his axe like the warrior his Father had once been.

For an hour or more the battle raged on and soon wore down. When all was done, 11 Trolloc bodies littered the north yard of Kaidad’s house, along with 7 Lancer dead and two wounded being tended by his Mother.

Life soon carried on as normal and did so for four more years, with the exception of five more Trolloc raids, two in the last year alone. It all ended in Kaidad’s 19th year when his Mother died of a fever. Two weeks he stayed silent after giving his Mother to her last embrace, until one he told his Father and Uncles he would be leaving the next morning, for Tar Valon.

Three weeks he rode, through town and village, sleeping in barns after working for a meal. Three weeks to bring him here, to the Shining walls of Tar Valon.

“Well burn me for a Light blinded fool, no turning back now.”

He took his first step past the Daghain Gate, and the first step towards his Fate.

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