Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black
Height: 5'7
Weight: 136
Age: 16
Place of Origin: Tar Valon


Rank: Trainee
Weaopon Score: 3
Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet
Primary Weapon:
Secondary Weapon:
Tertiary Weapon:


Maldrin was born to an innkeeper who owned Amyrlin's Glory. Growing up in Tar Valon, it was only natural for him to be attracted to the huge spire towering over the city, dwarfed only by Dragonmount. Dreaming of becoming a Warder, the Warrior Protectors of Aes Sedai, he often tried to sneak into the Tower grounds to watch them train, only to be caught by the Tower Guards. Hearing many stories told in his mother's inn, of Warders battling in the Blight, fighting against the Dark One's twisted minions, inflamed his passion to become a Warder. Naturally, he stared at the travelers who owned swords, occasionally trying to steal them and succeeding once, which explains why he has a deep scar running down his face, as he was only six at the time and swords are usually heavy. Has a fast mind and a faster tongue, he sees no dishonesty in a lie and can talk his way out of almost anything. Many a punishment had been diverted by his ability to tell a lie with pure sincerity on his face and in his tone.

At the age of twelve, he began working as a stable boy at the White Tower's stables, so as to be closer to the spire and Warder's alike. By that time, he could resist the allure of the training grounds enough to focus on the horses, although he got more than his fair share of punishments for sneaking off when the stables grew calm and forgetting time at watching the Warder's train. And thus it went, until...

At the age of fifteen, he managed to snatch a practice sword. Apart from getting it in a few tender places, he managed to hold it as he'd seen warder's do it, and swing it a few times. Unfortunatly, he was in the back of the stables at the time, and in one of his swings hit a horse on the nose. Needless to say, the horse was not happy, and neither was the head stableman. After escaping with quite a number of bruises, and a tender ribcage from the horse when he'd been trying to soothe it, apparantly horses don't respond well to people that whack it on the nose with a practice sword, he was forced to return the sword to the Warders. Needless to say, that was not fun.

However, nothing could stand in the way of his training. Not a few beatings, not humiliation, Maldrin was half sure that if he lost his head tommorow, he'd still get up and find his way to the Warder's enrollment. He wasn't quite sure how he'd be able to sign up, since he couldn't write or talk if he had no head. Maybe his neck could talk? If it were a high cut, after all, he should still have his voice box. But no, he'd have no tongue. Oh, but this isn't about that. His determination could not be swayed. So, as it approached his sixteenth birthday, his excitement mounted. Then came the day...

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