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[Trelise Sedai]

Lovely bio. I hope to see good things from you in the RP. :-)

[Arani Lepenque Aes Sedai]

Name: Eshara Aravell
Age: 153
Nationality: Aramaelle
Gender: Female

Allegiance: Herself, The Light
Occupation: Weaving/Needlework
One Power Rating: Level 9 (Nicola)
Weapon Score: 1 (Staff)

Appearance
Eshara is tall, lean and wiry. She did not stop growing at 15, but at 20, and thus she towers over most people, even her countrymen, who are mostly tall themselves. She is a rarity for height, but she is shorter than majority of the Aielmen of the Waste (she met some during the Aiel War)

She has brown hair so dark it looks almost black, framing a pale face that is distinguishable. There is a glossy sheen over it such that it shines under pale moonlight. It seems to ripple whenever she moves, emphasizing its wavy nature, as it falls past her shoulders. She tends to it with care, but only enough to preserve it as it is. She does not attempt to eliminate the grey hairs that have cropped up over the recent years due to the troubles that plague her.

Her eyes are liquid brown and thus gives her a look of pure innocence. They gleam with laughter, and the light is in them. Her face has a sharp, distinctive nose, and has slightly tilted eyes.

She only looks as though she was 35 years old. Nobody would be able to tell that she was any older than that, save for the fact that she seems to carry an aura of age, wisdom, and occasionally, when she feels the need arises, authority, that belies her look, and supports the fact that she is over 150 years of age. The only other thing that allows her to look as though she has experienced much is the thin strands of grey hair that she has, odd on somebody so young for a channeler.

Personality
Eshara Aravell has a very strong will that survived her original test for Acceptance into the old White Tower in Tar Valon. But she sometimes brings it to far, causing people to get angry with her. However, due to increased pressure on her, and because she was held up to extremely high expectations, she finally broke down during her test for the shawl, unable to cope anymore. She thus failed the test.

Thus, she was sent very often to the Mistress of Novices. And, instead of being punished, it became a battle of wills. Eshara refusing to bend to the Mistress of Novices when she thought she was in the right, and the Mistress of Novices in turn, tried desperately to discipline her in the ways of novices and accepted. Until at last, Eshara grudgingly gave way.

Eshara was always eager to be of use, motherly and affectionate for the Novices when she was an Accepted, and for the common people later on. However, when she confronted Darkfriends, her warm heart turns to ice and steel, she is merciless, having had to endure the mental torture of knowing her husband was a Dreadlord, and that he killed all her descendants save for 4 grandchildren, who, by chance, all but one turned out to be channelers.

The incident also left her mentally unstable. This mental imbalance causes severe headaches. Sometimes the headaches grow so severe that she loses sense of herself and lashes out with Saidar unwittingly. After that she may go unconscious for a few hours before regaining her senses.

She is also emotional, another factor that was pivotal in causing her to break down during her test for the shawl.

Talents
Eshara Aravell is rather strong in the One Power, much stronger than the average female channeler, and quite above average Aes Sedai strength. However, her skill was never trained to its full extent due to her early dismissal from the Tower as she failed her test for the shawl.  Her status as a powerful channeler is hidden by choice, for she simply detests people who fawn over channelers.  In times of dire need however, she will stand out and reveal herself as someone who is very powerful in her own right.

With a great ability in the element of Fire, Eshara is rare in that she is very strong in this element, for a woman.  Although her talent in this area is limited by a slight lack of skill and dexterity, Eshara is still able to competantly wield more Fire than most other Aes Sedai in the White Tower, and certainly in the world.  Her ability in Spirit is only slightly weaker, and that only by a hair.  This ability for weaving shields of Spirit compounds her Talent for Shielding other people.  In fact, her ability in Spirit is also quite rare in the world.  Her ability with Water is lesser by a considerable margin, but she is still very adept at it, and she has learnt many useful weaves of Water over the years.

However, Eshara's ability in Air is less than what is normal for a female channeler.  The weaves of Air she weave are quite rough in comparison to the skilledand powerful weaves of Fire that she can normally wield.  She can only learn the simpler weaves of Air, and sometimes will have to use other elements to give it power and back up her ability in this element.  Her ability in Earth, however, is appalling.  She has never been able to weave more than a few pallid strands of Earth that have almost no trace of colour in them as she is weaving them.  And she is confounded by all but the simplest weaves of Earth.

She has a talent in Shielding, and can shield up to several times her strength in the power. This is reinforced by her great affinity in Spirit. But her limited skill counterbalances this. Until she reaches her full skill, she cannot utilize this talent to her maximum potential.

Eshara Aravell, in the 120 years of her existence after being put out of the White Tower, has discovered some weaves that she had not been taught. One of them is what she dubs 'Vertigo'. Using large amounts of Spirit, and some amounts of Earth, this weave, when directed, causes people to lose their sense of balance. They cannot tell up from down, left from right, and end up nauseous, and sometimes unconscious. But because Eshara is so weak in Earth, she can only work it such that it causes slight nausea and dizziness. However, it has proved useful. And will do so again.

[Swiftar]

Name: Nathanial Raythanard   
Age: 29
Birthplace: Aramaelle
Height: 5'9”
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Long black hair
Body: Large for an Aramaellian with a sinewy frame built from fending off his brothers as he grew. Simple sword training has helped him keep his body lean over the years yet he still looks like a pampered son of minor noble he could have easily have become
Talent: He has an uncanny ability to talk his way out of most trouble. Most that is. With that he can tell a story that would rival some gleemen.
One Power Rating: ??
Weapon Score: ??

History: Nathanial was born south of Mafal Dadaranell on his family’s land. His family owns a small medium holding in the plains land. It is from here they have the sheep and winery that is the mainstay of their little empire. Even though it is small they still are able to keep 100 men-at-arms and 20 Calvary. It is not much compared to the forces that hold back the occasional Trolloc attack up north. Nothing ever reaches this far south so there is no danger. Life in the Raythanard manor is not easy for Nathanial and his two brothers. Being the youngest of the three he has had to grow up learning to defend himself from the many attacks on his person and pride through the years. His brothers are not evil but they are not forgiving either. They believe that any weakness seen in their brother would show a weakness in themselves. To that end life has not been easy for the youngest brother. From wrestling matches to fistfight and once even swordplay the three brothers tested each other on a daily basis.

Things where going on in an orderly path for Nathanial. He was destined to help run the family land waiting for his father to die and then subtly fight with his brothers over control of the family manor. The loser of this battle would either be chased off to the city to live out a soldier’s life up north or even die in mortal combat with a family member over control. The three brothers knew this and yet it being a part of life would not be brought up until that day came. This being known the three still loved each other and would fight to the death to defend them against any of the area lord’s sons for the slightest of insults. As to the path of his life Nathanial had it pretty easy. Other than the occasional late night tussle with a local maiden or fight at a small tavern life was running the manor or winery under their dads watchful eye.

Then the world ended. Some say the world was ending and that the Dragon Reborn was roaming the lands, some even say it was the Dark One Himself, but if you ask the sole remaining Raythanard he would say the Wheel itself stopped turning for him. It all started with a strange sickness that took their sheep, then the vines dried up, his oldest brother went off to town with half the men-at-arms to deliver their last casks of wine and never returned.  All of this tested the Raythanard household to his limits but that was nothing compared to what destroyed it. It was a bright day that normally brought good luck for the family but it turned dark with the onslaught of Trollocs. They came over the short walls of the family manor like a wave of evil. Sliding through the remaining men-at-arms like the wind through a wheat field. Nathanial rushed with his father out to fight them. The battle was surprisingly short the number of Trollocs keep growing as the number of Aramaellians shrunk. It was going bad but this is what made it go worse.

It was a slash across his chest that brought the searing pain flooding into his body that caused it. Nathanial felt the pain and it opened up something in him that had lain, unknowingly to him, dormant all his life. Sickness poured into him as pain, anguish, horror, and something else took over. That was the last thing he remembered. He awoke hours later in the middle of the night miles away from his house in the lands North of the Mafal Dadaranell. His clothes were in shambles. Strange burns littered his arms and face as he forced himself to walk the miles back to his family house. What he found tore his heart out. Some of the bodies of the men-at-arms and household staff had been put on spikes on the wall, some had been dismembered, and even worse some had been eaten on. Still he ignored them as he stumbled through the once proud gates of the Raythanard household. Bodies littered the ground. Searching Nathanial’s heart dropped and fell into the abyss as he found his Fathers body lay strewn across the front step of a burnt out house. In his fathers hand was a scrap of the dress his mother had been wearing that day but no sign of his brother or mother could be found. So the last known member of the Raythanard family turned toward the south and smoke rising from other places in the distance. All worries of what happened and how he survived where thrown to the wind, as only the destruction of all Trollocs he could find would quench the thirst in his heart. Step by step he made his preparations and began to follow the smoke toward destruction hoping to meet some Trollocs.