Place of Origin: Sheinar
Hair: Dark streaked with grey topknot
Eyes: Light blue
Primary Weapon: Glaive, Dirk, Dagger
Secondary Weapons: Dirk and Dagger combination
Daetirion managed a fairly uneventful childhood, as uneventful as one will get in the Borderlands. Born to a Blacksmith and his wife in Fal Dara. Some experience around the forge from aiding his father in these early years, which did enable him to build up a fairly impressive physique. However, being a young lad in the Borderlands, he was enamoured by the tales of heroics and wars brought back to the capital, and soon he tired of making swords and dreamt of wielding one. Unluckily, Daetirion had absolutely no skill with a sword whatsoever, and despite attempts by his father and uncles to train him, he didn't seem to improve at all. His betters all suggested a different discipline might suit his natural ability, but after managing to get mocked from the archery fields, hope of any military career died for him.
Daetirion continued working at the forge for a while, but as he began to watch his peers train for a military career, his sense of inadequacy came crushing down upon him. Taking his meagre savings, Dae headed out to "seek his fortune" as the gleemen say, although he set off with no expectations or hopes - merely a neccessity to leave. Heading west, through the borderlands, Daetirion used his considerable bulk to hitch rides on caravans as unofficial. Discriminating a neccessity for some kind of weapon besides his fists, Dae picked up a quarterstaff and only ended up using it occasionly, although enough to gain a little proficiency.
Daetirion decided to stop a while in Saldaea, whereupon he was employed as a fairly successful tavern bouncer, allowing him room, board and a number of fleeting romances with the tavern girls. Life continued fairly steadily untill his midtwenties, whereupon a passing mercenary captain, impressed by his no nonsense approach and physical stature persuaded him to join, despite his protestations of inadequacies.
The company, Mahederin's Wolves, tried to train him in a similar manner to that from before, and as ever, his ineptitude shined through. However, Captain Mahederin finally managed to find Dae's military niche. While he had no skill with a sword or bow, his quarterstaff knowledge was at the very least better than average. So, Dae trained, and soon was at least competant in his weapon of choice. While obvioulsy not the most battlefield friendly of weapons, he was assigned protection duties for the group of archers within the mercenaries. Known for being picked off from flanking manuevers or breakthroughs, Daetirion eventually rose to a position where he commanded ten other men in keeping the Archers safe. With safety, the archers naturally became more assured and kill shots and combat success shot up. Soon Mahederin's Wolves became one of the more successful mercenary troops plying the Almoth Plain.
However, all good things must eventually pass, and following the loss of Captain Mahederin and most of his infantry in a foolish charge that was ambushed by the opposition, Dae took himself, his ten men and all those archers who would follow him off to seek further employment elsewhere. Whilst not seeking command, he became this small groups leader, and soon managed to bargain their subsumation in another mercenary Band, at the same time gaining rank, more people under his command, and the same position gaurding archers.
Drifting from Band to band, Daetirion managed to keep a core of loyal comrades together, despite losses, and if he wished to leave a band led by foolish commanders or illdisciplined, employment elsewhere was almost garunteed. Thus, Daetirion traversed most of the known world, fighting in almost every country. It took a small war between Tear and Illian for Daetirion to truly progress again. As his twentyeigth year neared its closed, Daetirion was salvaging the battlefield when he came across a weapon so perfectly suited to him, it almost called to be picked up. A glaive, a shaft of six feet in length, darkened ash, steel capped for weight, with a magnificent two foot blade, slightly swept back in the form of a cavalry sabre. Immidietly, Daetirion set about practicing, and through a combination of quarterstaff experience, determination and focus, he quickly progressed in skill, using the longer reach to great effect.
More minor, ineffectual wars cropped up. It was rumours of more trouble on the Almoth Plain that sent a multitude of mercenary bands towards Tarabon, and Daetirion's Captain was no exception. However, upon finding the Seanchan, they were severly underestimated. Hired by a Taraboner nobleman to defend his land, the band Daetirion was a part of was systematicly destroyed by the Seanchan, a leashed Damane managing to unleash unholy death upon the archer core Dae had sought so hard to protect. Infantry breakthrough's he'd repulsed, cavalry charges had been blunted but he could do nothing against the One power. As the smoke cleared, the survivors fled in the direction of the Mountains of Mist. Aged forty, Daetirion considered walking away now, but having known the same profession for so long he knew deep down he would still fight. And so, following rumours of fighting in Andor, Daetirion crossed the mountains of mist, eventually ending up in the town of Baerlon.
Following a time spent resting and recuperating, Daetirion began to try and track down some employment. Most of the mercenary groups recruiting were either ill-disciplined or newly formed, and there was only one that really caught Daetirion's eye - the Band of the Red Hand. Oh he knew the history, he'd grown up with the tales, and any band prepared to make that audacious a claim may well be the starting point to continue. Besides, the recruiters looked a damn sight better than the rest of the sorry bunch, and after some gentle enquiries, Daetirion decided to chance his luck and signed up.