Email: claire@thegrove.f2s.com
Description[]
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 181
Age: 18
Place of Origin: Mayene
Stats[]
Rank: Trainee
Weaopon Score: 2
Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet
Primary Weapon:
Secondary Weapon:
Tertiary Weapon:
History[]
Physical Description:
Tall and striking, Laurent is a very good-looking man and he knows it. His face is ruggedly handsome, strong-jawed and in possession of a devastatingly cheeky grin. Athletically built with a wide pair of shoulders, many a maid has sighed at the sight of Laurent Aston.
Character History:
?Laurent?? An enquiring voice called out into the small bedroom of their well-furnished house. Eyes shining and bright, seven year old Laurent tried to read the final few words of the chapter of The Adventures of Jain Farstrider by the silent glow of the candle. He knew it was well past his bedtime and that his mother would be coming in any second to blow out the light and tuck him in bed with a kiss and a smiling admonition to go to sleep, lest Lanfear come for him in the night. He just wanted to read the last few lines of the story, so he could dream he was the hero; saving beautiful ladies in distress and smiting the evil from the land. ?Time to blow out the candle and go to sleep.?
The elegant figure of his mother, clad in fine grey wool and a caring expression on her smiling face, walked into his bedroom and kissed Laurent on the top of his head. Putting the well-read book down on the bedside table, she told him how beautiful a boy he was, and that the all the girls would love him some day. Laurent wrinkled his nose at that: he did not really want to meet many girls, as they were confusing and didn?t like the same stories he did. They did smell nice, he conceded.
Callane, his mother, was the daughter of a prosperous and wealthy merchant, who had been married to the son of a noble House for trade reasons, rather than for love. His father, Alen, had served in the army for a time and became proficient in the use of the long-handled axe that would eventually be passed into his son?s hands. Alen had been quite the ladies man until he met Callane and knew his wandering days were over. The small family unit had prospered. Laurent continued to read through every single book he could lay his excited hands on, much encouraged by his parents. They were happy when he started to develop an interest in art ? sketching seemed to come naturally to him, but they still worried when during his thirteenth year he started to show signs of the same wanderlust his father had suffered from. In order to give the lad some direction, Alen took his son out into the grounds of their house in the country and handed him the sword.
?Here, take this. Hold it with one hand?here, and the other hand?here.?
Dark eyes twinkled at the opportunity of learning how to use a weapon and become like the heroes from the stories, Laurent embraced the opportunity to enjoy something that put him one step closer to being something heroic, but tended to prefer reading rather than learning the thing. He didn?t know enough. Swinging it was one thing; it was heavy and could be unwieldy, but he learned how to not stab himself with it. He grew restless and would spend hours looking out of the window at the clouds passing overhead. Laurent felt it was time to leave.
?I want to see something of the world, mother. I?ve thought about it ? you always taught me to be practical.? He grinned at her, the cheekiness of his expression making Callane?s heart proud and worried what trouble he would get himself into if she let him out. ?I?ll get jobs in the towns I pass through, maybe stay for a few months. Earn my keep, experience new things, and meet new people.? His father had a knowing smile on his face: Alen had been exactly the same at that age. Callane looked appraisingly from one to the other, shaking her head slightly. Laurent had taken exactly after his father, apart from the eyes. He had his mother?s eyes. ?Go on, then. But take care and keep in touch.? He couldn?t really argue with her, much as it would be a bind to get letters back all the time, but he would do so because he loved his parents. His father encouraged him on his way with some advice on keeping out of trouble, his mother with a loving kiss on the forehead. He valued both as much, but his father?s advice kept him out of trouble more times than he realised.
?Always try to talk your way out of things first. Smile whilst you?re saying it - especially to a woman. They may be a maze of brambles in the night, but flattery will get you everywhere.?
His confidence buoyed, Laurent left. He worked his way across the lands, moving from town to town, and city to village to harbours and never felt homesick once. Every day he met new people, maybe the women a little more than the men and earning his bed and board on the journey by singing, telling stories or sketching people. If no one wanted entertaining in one form or another, he offered his services as a handyman. The yearning that he recalled as a child; reading the epic fantasies and wanting to become the hero, was starting to pull at him. And there were none more reputed for heroism than the Warders of the fabled Aes Sedai. The White Tower beckoned.