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Handle: Morholt

Description Edit

Appearance: Height 5'11", solidly built, broad shouldered, but not particularly muscular. Instead of pure strength Morholt relies on shockingly quick reflexes and remarkable agility. His hair is a dirty blond color, mid-length but wild. Intense blue eyes dominate an otherwise plain face. A cutting scar on the side and slightly above his right eye gives him a sinister appearance.

At first glance Morholt seems to have his emotions carefully under control. To those who don't know him he wouldn't give much away. However a closer examination would reveal a simmering maelstrom just beneath the surface.

He is dressed with tough well worn leather boots that come half way up to the knee. A hood often conceals his features and his attire is all black. The only other coloring is a distinctive band of dark green on his right coat sleeve.
Division/Rank: Cavalry Private
Age: 22
Origin: Cairhienin
Weapon: Sword
Secondary weapon: Daggers


History Edit

Morholt's parents were moderately successful proprietors of an inn in the inner city. Time in the stables taught him to work with and care for horses at a very early age. Among his friends he was accounted a good rider. Morholt's father, Tristan, had fought in the Aiel war. He taught his son the sword and filled his head with stories of the fighting. The Old Man's repertoire of adventures made a great impression on a young Morholt and he dreamed of becoming a great captain one day.

When the contest for the Sun Throne broke out Morholt seized the opportunity. He didn't pick sides and felt no allegiance either way but his father knew an old soldiering companion and he found him a place as the retainer of a minor Lord. The House he joined was a small one but it had a knack for finding action.

The war was nothing like he expected. It was hard and brutal. Yet Morholt excelled. His prowess quickly earned him a reputation and before long he came to the attention of Lord Amarak, who took him under his wing and complemented Tristan's lessons by teaching Morholt the arts of strategy and tactics.

Unfortunately this was cut short when the Aiel crossed the Dragonwall. Lord Amarak led Morholt and some twenty retainers to Cairhien to assist in its defense. However as they approached the city along the Tar Valon road the Aiel struck. Lord Amarak had schooled everyone in the company of the need for constant vigilance against ambush but somehow the Aiel had managed to conceal their presence until the horses were virtually on top of them.

Caught out in the open and several miles from the foregate the small band was decimated. Almost immediately Lord Amarak's horse was hamstrung and before he had hit the ground Aiel warriors were sweeping in to finish the job with a spear to the throat. The others fared no better. Nearly to a man they died in those first moments. What saved Morholt was sharp thinking and quick action. Before the Aiel had a chance to close quarters he charged, scattering them. Then turning his horse in tight circles he fended them off and shouted to the rest of the company to rally to his position. Only two others made it to him. Together they cut a path through the Aiel, avoiding them where they could.

Weary of further ambushes and other bands of Aiel, Morholt chose a careful route through the approaching enemy forces. One horse fell to an Aiel spear, its rider crushed beneath it, as they galloped the final mile. The foregate was deserted, the people having fled, but small groups of Aiel were setting fire to the buildings. As the flames took hold the second man was claimed by an Aiel weapon, his scream still ringing in Morholt's ears as he dodged around the corner and dashed through the narrow streets. In the race to the gatehouse Morholt won but after he could well believe the stories that an Aiel could outrun a horse.

Returning to his parent's inn he took a bed in a loft crowded with refugees and those who had come down in the world. A use was quickly found for him in the defense of Cairhien and Morholt was placed in command of ten farmers who happened to have rusted blades and inflated ideas of what they could do to a cornered Aiel. Again he acquitted himself well and when the siege was lifted Morholt knew where his talents lay. He sought out the Band of the Red Hand to enlist among their ranks and make his name.

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