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DM Handle Dhaimon

DescriptionEdit

Eye Color: Nearly black
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 5'8
Weight: 143 lbs
Age: 19
Place of Origin: Tarabon

StatsEdit

Rank: Trainee
Warder Weapon Score: 2
Paths and Disciplines: Not Chosen Yet
Primary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet
Secondary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet
Tertiary Weapon: Not Chosen Yet

HistoryEdit

Description: Around five feet and eight inches tall, at first glance there is nothing that would truly set Ibram apart, neither his bright brown hair quite common in Tarabon nor the nearly black color of his eyes. He bears himself like someone used to military drill, though, and despite his youth already has wisps of grey at his temples. His face, missing the mustache typical for Taraboner fashion, also has a constant, troubled expression most of the time.

History: Ibram was born into a soldier's family, a profession quite common in his birthplace; located at the border to the Almoth Plain, the "threat" of Plain bandits and Domani thugs was all too real. Regularly Tarabon's Kings would set out for campaigns into Almoth Plain, sometimes even hated Arad Doman, to further the glory of the Tree of Man and to make Tarabon's mortal enemies pay.

His father eagerly volunteered to be part of the King's forces on one of these endeavours, when Ibram's fifth naming day had barely gone by. He never returned. His mother, a nurse in the town's sickhouse, never truly recovered from that, and isolated herself ever more, fervently losing herself in her profession. Ibram was mostly looked after by good friends of the family, and when he decided to become a part of the town's militia at the age of 14, his mother's only comment was, "You, you must do what you must."

In the militia, he got a first idea of what an armed man's life was like, and soon chose the spear to be his weapon-of-choice. For three years he remained in the militia, three very quiet years for the bordertown, with barely any brigand's raids. A growing itch settled into Ibram: Keeping the peace simply wasn't enough for him. He wanted to get out there, to find his father- or to avenge him. Not long after his 17th nameday another call to arms was announced, another strike to be launched- at the heartland of the Domani themselves. Ibram was quick to answer the call, and since he had proven to have sufficient skill as a spearman was confirmed into the expedition's ranks. Unlike all the other mothers of the town who cheered their sons onward, his own mother never so much as looked at the procession.

As the campaign progressed, Ibram's fancies and daydreams were all but crushed by the realities he faced: There was no glorious battle to be fought with the cowardly Domani or Plain dogs at the other end of the field. When the host was not moving through no-man's land, killing or shackling any unlucky enough to cross its path, it was three things:

Looting, pillaging, slaughtering. And worse.

Greater settlements in the Almoth Plain were avoided, the smaller ones, though...It was made certain that "survivors" did not carry word of the approaching army, so that Arad Doman might be prepared to counter it or the villages in the Plain band together to drive it off.

Ibram did not take part in the...crimes...and remained silent. Untill they reached the Domani bordertown.

While murder commenced all around him, and he was even encouraged by some of his "compatriots" to have "some fun" with one of the "Domani wenches", he could not bear it any longer. It was one against two, and somehow, for a wonder, Ibram was the one left standing. Taking the frightened victim by her hands, he flew the town, and tore his tabard off him along the way. When he had put enough distance between himself and the ravaged town, without any pursuers evident, he sent the poor woman on her way, and went his own way.

Since his desertion, he had tried to put as much distance between himself and Tarabon as he could, trying to join up with local militias in places that did not show a Taraboner the door, if not worse, or else tried to get hired as a merchant's guard. For close to two years, his life went on in this fashion. He did not remain in any one place for very long, for fear of being tracked down by Tarabon's justice. He could not, because he was restless. The injustice and vileness he had witnessed during his time "soldiering"...This Dragon-fellow's followers weren't above that, so it was heard everywhere, neither were the 'cloaks. The only ones that could remedy all the evil, Ibram was certain of it, were the Aes Sedai. So it was that he made his way to Tar Valon, to become a shield for the White Tower.

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