Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: None
Place of Origin: Tear
Character Name: Oran Robartes
Weight: 158 lbs
Skin: Dark Brown
Hair: None (shaved)
1. A small black tattoo of two crossed swords on the back of his left hand between his index finger and thumb.
Place of Birth/Raising: Born in Tear, raised on the streets.
Oran Robartes was born in the great city of Tear to Nadric the fishmonger and his wife Lorina. The love that Nadric and Lorina shared was renowned throughout the central market, and the news of their upcoming family addition was smiled on by all. But when that eagerly awaited day came, tragedy rather than joy descended upon the Robartes home. Lorina, after a long and difficult labor, gave birth to a strapping and boisterous boy, but died without ever laying eyes on the child.
Nadric was devastated by the loss of his wife, and in the first days of his son?s life, became lost in a dark fog of depression of which he never truly escaped. As the years went by, Nadric became more and more despondent and ambivalent toward his son. In the absence of his father?s love and guidance, Oran found acceptance in Tear?s most notorious criminal guild, the Mandarb?alantin. Known for their daring and ruthless methods, the Mandarb?alantin took the poor and dispossessed for Tear and molded them into formidable underground army.
At the age of six Oran was taken by the brotherhood and trained to be nimble of fingers and silent of foot in both the marketplaces and roof tops of Tear. Driven by an overwhelming sense of guilt for having caused the death of his mother, Oran quickly rose through the ranks of the underground brotherhood. By the age of 13 he had been promoted to Master Pickpocket and Burglar, a feat unheard in the history of Mandarb?alantin for one so young. Oran was eventually entrusted with assignments of greater importance, spying in wealthy merchant estates and eventually in several of the High Lord?s homes. Even though he was proud of his accomplishments within the brotherhood, his success did not come without a price. Oran grew up to be a guarded and jaded young man, never making any true connections with others, and always preferring to be alone.
By the time Oran turned sixteen he had undergone the typical male adolescent growth spurt, which left him with a body better fit to his precocious nature. At 5?11? and 158 pounds of lean muscle, Oran was reassigned from his petty crime unit and transferred to Enforcer training. Enforcers were the soldiers of the Mandarb?alantin; it was here that he was taught the basics of hand to hand combat and swordsmanship, along with various blunt weapons such as staffs and cudgels. Their primary jobs were to carry out extortion threats, suppression of rival gang operations, and bodyguard the brotherhood?s higher ranking members. Oran was pleased with this reassignment since it fit along the path to his final goal, attaining the rank of Assassin. He had been a killer on his way into this world and felt that it was his destiny to be one for the rest of his life.
Even though Oran quickly advanced in Enforcer training, proving himself to be adept with a sword and ruthless when using it, he found it tiresome to work within a team environment. Being a thief had molded Oran into a loner who was used to almost complete autonomy. When given an assignment he produced excellent results, but he was also given free reign on how to accomplish them. Now he was expected to obey orders and work as a member of a team. Both his high ability and reluctance to integrate himself into his unit caused his fellow trainees to resent him. The Enforcer trainers encouraged their students to settle their disputes between themselves, thus Oran found it necessary to be constantly on his guard, never knowing when one of his peers would decide to ?teach him a lesson?. In these skirmishes, more often than not Oran was the teacher, but by the end of his year of training he had collected a respectable assortment of scars.
It was at the end of that year that Oran?s life changed forever.
?Robartes, kill the girl.? The captain ordered in a nonchalant voice.
Blood and ashes, Oran thought, why won?t this stupid merchant just pay? The situation had quickly spiraled out of control. This was supposed to be an easy collection for protection services rendered by the Brotherhood, but now this fat cat merchant was growing a back bone. He could tell by his captains off hand tone that blood was about to be spilled; the calmer he sounded the higher the body count. This wouldn?t be the first blood bath Oran had participated in, but after drawing his dagger and grabbing the back of the trembling girl?s head, preparing to cut her exposed throat, something within him snapped.
?No more? he whispered in the girl?s ear.
Releasing the girl and turning around to meet his Captain?s eyes, he repeated his refusal in a louder steadier voice ?No more. No more killing, no more stealing, no more preying on the weak. I?m done.?
First surprise and then anger spread across the Captain?s face. In truth Oran was just as surprised as his Captain at his words. Up to this point in his life Oran had been haunted by the ghost of his mother and the rejection of his father. But now a change had come over him, he felt infused with a new purpose to protect and defend, rather than intimidate, murder, and steal. Now, instead of guilt and self loathing for the part he played in his mother?s death, Oran felt an obligation to protect life in order to amend for the one that was lost; his mother sacrificed herself so he could live and do good in the world, not evil.
As this epiphany washed over him, the Captain drew his sword thrust it at Oran?s chest. Bringing his dagger up just in time to parry the thrust, Oran?s empty hand went to his belt drawing a second smaller dagger. Not expecting Oran to react so quickly, the Captain over committed his thrust and was carried forward by its momentum. Seeing his chance, Oran lunged forward and buried his second dagger in the Captain?s throat. For a second time that night surprise registered on the Captain?s face, just before he fell to the floor dead.
Oran barely heard the merchant?s thanks as he crumpled into a nearby chair. He had just signed his own death warrant. There was no escaping the Brotherhood once you had gained its wrath. Then something the Merchant said caught his attention. ?I owe you a great debt for saving my daughter; please let me help you now. I have a ship with cargo going to Tar Valon in the morning. I will take you there right now and order the ship to leave immediately. Please it?s the least I can do.?
Tar Valon, yes it was clear to him now. It was time for him to repay the debt his wicked life had accrued. Beyond any doubt he knew that Tar Valon was where he was needed. To become a Warder, and lay down his life for the protection of another would be the payment the Creator required.