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Email: palmers@vt.edu

DescriptionEdit

Eye Color: Brown, in one long braid, carr
Hair Color: Brown, in one long braid, carr
Height: 5?10?
Weight: 170
Age: 16
Place of Origin: Arafel

StatsEdit

Rank: Trainee
Weaopon Score: 2
Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet
Primary Weapon:
Secondary Weapon:
Tertiary Weapon:

HistoryEdit

Character's name: Vay Rochirdin Age: 16 Place of Origin: Arafel Hair Color: Brown, in one long braid, carrying bells on the end Eye Color: Dark green Height: 5? 10? Weight: 170 lbs.

Brief History:

     Born the only son of a blacksmith in Shol Arbela, Vay began life as a loner. Just as any other boy in the Borderlands, his dreams were filled with glorious campaigns to retake the Blight and strike back the Shadow. Any spare time the boy had was spent either helping his father Brearn in the forge or, more often than not, with his nose in any book he could find about war heroes, tactics and stratagems. The boy pored over old volumes, and they soon became better friends to him than the other children in the city.
    About a month before Vay?s twelfth birthday, his father seemed to avoid talking to him, often ducking out in the early morning hours to the forge, and not allowing Vay to enter whilst he was working. Angered, Vay spent even more hours in the library, so much so that every librarian knew the lad by name. He often had in-depth conversations with them about generals from years gone by, their strengths and weaknesses, their victories and defeats. It was refreshing to have someone to talk to about these things, and he soon began heading straight to the library in the mornings, with not a care for the forge, or whatever secrets his father was keeping.
     However, on Vay?s birthday, his father presented him with the secret project: two swords strapped to be worn on his back in the true Arafellin fashion. The boy was aghast at such a significant gift. His father began training him in the basics of wielding such weapons, as well as a bow, often taking him around the outskirts of the city to target ravens and collect the bounty on them. One day, while training in the back of the forge, Vay heard his sister scream. The boy and his father sprinted back to the house to discover his sister Ibrere anxiously scrambling backwards from what appeared to be a small flame with no source in the middle of the grass. Later that night, Vay overheard his parents discussing the possibility of sending Ibrere to Tar Valon. His father, deeming Vay old enough, charged him with sticking to his sister?s side as they traveled with a merchant caravan out of the capital to Tar Valon. Giving Vay a signet ring handed down through their small family for longer than anyone could remember, the sun rising over an anvil, and giving his sister her mother?s favorite necklace of simple silver links, their parents sent them to meet the caravan.
     The ride at first seemed simple enough; however on the evening of their second day, bandits attacked the caravan. Vay defended his sister as best he could, but he was no blademaster, and the attackers quickly overran the whole lot of them. A gash on his right leg left Vay on the ground with no choice but to watch the grisly scene unfold. Ibrere fought wildly to keep her mother?s necklace, striking out at anyone within a few paces, but after she planted a strong clout to the head of one bandit, they killed her in cold blood. Eyeing Vay cut down on the field, the bandits laughed and decided to leave him to die, looting the caravan and setting it aflame. All emotion seemed to flood out of Vay as he watched his sister die; time seemed to slow to a crawl as the bandits left and Vay bound his leg would the way his father had taught him.


      Vay crawled to his sister, taking the necklace for remembrance and saying a prayer for the dead. He could not remember the next day how long he had spent weeping beside her, but it seemed he had fallen asleep in that manner. The next morning, with his leg bandaged, he pulled Ibrere?s body off the road. Maybe one day he would be able to return for her, but for now he simply needed her covered, off the road and out of sight. Using his swords to scrape away the earth not ten paces from the side of the road, Vay buried his sister with another prayer. Having finished, Vay limped back to the road, and began walking towards Tar Valon. A part of him wanted to run back home and never leave again, just stay in the library and die there, but the greater part knew he had an obligation to keep. His father had sent him to protect his sister, a woman who could channel, and yet in the end had been defenseless to stop her attackers. He would not let this kind of atrocity happen again. He may no longer be able to save Ibrere, but he could still protect others.
     The sun was not yet halfway to its midafternoon peak, but Vay thought he could see the monolith that was the White Tower already. That tower was his home now, its denizens his family. Vay trudged on, barely aware now of the pain shooting through his leg at every step. He was too fixated on old dreams of grandeur, realizing that he would now accomplish them. Impossibly, his pace seemed to quicken?

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