Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black
Height: 5'8
Weight: 170
Age: 16
Place of Origin: Saldea


Rank: Tower Guard
Weaopon Score: 9
Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet
Primary Weapon: Claymore
Secondary Weapon: Sabre
Tertiary Weapon: Scimitar


Corbin had loced his father very much. He'd been the only relative Corbin had ever known. His father had been a merchant who travelled the Borderlands and Tar Valon. Tar Valon, the same city where his father's time had come to an end. He had at last returned to the mother's final embrace. The death had been unexpected, there was no sickness, no sign. One morning the man simply didn't rouse from bed.

Looking down at the blade in his hands, he thought about the past 4 years, living on the road with his father. Travelling, seeing the world, learning many things. How to ride a horse, how to protect yourself from the wild animals....and wild men. This blade had been his father's, it represented all that he'd learned from that man. The first part of his life. That part of learning was over, a new one just begun. This Scimitar had been employed to save them more than a few times over those years. Corbin buckled it to his left hip, directly opposite it's twin. The one the father'd had made for the son.

Corbin turned from the grave and his breath caught, as it did every time, when he beheld the White Tower. He began walking towards the Warder's Yard. During these past years, every time he'd been in The City, he'd been mesmorized by these men. When they sparred, they were like water. Fluid and grace. It was like a dance, a deadly one. He had nowhere else to go, and he wanted to do honor to his father's memory. He could think of no better place, than to join these men. Corbin ran his thumb along the hilt of his own scimitar, maybe he'd begin the next phase of his learning here.

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