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Pasmael
Profile: A tall, brown-eyed, young adult (17 years old), with curly black hair. Pasmael is often wearing the face of a dreamer. He is a philosopher, raised among books and he likes to question everything. He usually spends at least one hour a day in his room meditating and another hour reading about history or philosophy. He is shy when in a large group but when he gets to trust someone he can be very talkative. He will never answer with violence unless it's necessary, however he hates Whitecloaks, and he will harm any one of them. Biography: The sun was almost midway to the horizon when he finished his daily meditation. Everything was packed and ready, ready to go forward… forward to his future. He decided to take one last long look to the sinuous road that lay behind him; almost as sinuous as his past life .... I was born in a lesser Andoran noble house, with an ancient tradition of culture and learning. Since my birth my parents believed that, as their heir, I had to be raised as a warrior, taught to use weapons and how to live in a hard way. My first years were marked by the learning of the quarterstaff, sword and bows; however I wasn't happy with that life. When I learned to read I found myself eager to escape training duties, going instead to the huge library in my parents’ manor. I was punished a hundred times for escaping, and a hundred times I returned to the library. There I began reading philosophy, history and art. Then, one day when I was 12 and my young brother had just been born, my father called me to his study. I expected a punishment for escaping my fighting classes again, instead he told me in a smooth voice, "Follow me." We began a long walk through the manor, basement after basement ,secret door after secret door until we arrived at a plain wooden door. Inside there was a room, with hundreds of books, books from the Trolloc wars, books from Arthur king's day, even books from as far back as the breaking; but there was something more. There it was, in the center of the room, glowing; a statue of a man with a spear, and a jewel shining like the sun. There stood the thing that would set my path forever. The moment my eyes fell over that statue I felt the desire to touch it, to be one with it, I wanted it. Suddenly My father spoke again. "Are you okay, son? I thought that seeing this would make you happy ... I wanted to tell you that if you don't want to you don't need to have fighting classes anymore, but if you aren't alright you should go to your bed ..." "No, no .... I’m fine dad, just a little shaken from the discovery, you know." For days I couldn't even go near that room...what happened there? What was that? At last I decided to return to that library. When I entered I found the statue, it was calling to me. I resisted and went looking through the books. I did that for 4 years, reading about aes sedai, the Age Of Legends, the White Tower ... reading about when the Dark One almost escaped , I found myself reading about old, dead philosophers, about prophecies. The world was plagued with rumors; rumors of the dead walking again, of trollocs, and of eyeless riders. I became a daydreamer, then it began .... One day my mother went ill, the mother Leila, the most talented healer in the city, said there was nothing to do. My father became very sad. He stayed all the day in the room with her. Me, I was devastated...I felt like the world was shattering at my feet; and then I remember the stories of legendary Aes Sedai who could heal everything short of death. I went looking in the library for every scrap of information I could gather ... there wasn't much ... but there was some! So I began to train myself, for months, in which my mother’s illness got worse. I meditated everyday, try to practice these "weaves" of which the books talked with no success. One day, while I was reading at the library, my father came and told me in tears, "Your mother is dying son...she wants to talk to you" I went upstairs to find her lying on the bed, with two servants holding wet towels. I only remember that I ran hastily to her bed, wishing with all my heart for her healing; and then it came...it felt like the sun was burning in me...like a torrent of water running trough me...and I loved it! It was like rediscovering life again. I felt it...and then everything went black. I found myself in my bed with my father, my mother, and my little brother at my side. "What happened?", I asked. "Are you alright son..." said my mother. “I thought you were...oh let's not think about that. You are fine and that's all that matters." "Mother I thought you were...sick." "You did something...she is now fine, but you had a fever for half a day", my father said. "And you were talking in your sleep. You said something about the gray destiny, the lost hope...” I didn't care about that at the moment, I had channeled; that was all that mattered. I had touched the male half of the source.... Suddenly Victor, our oldest servant entered. "Sir, sir! There are whitecloaks, with soldiers…” "What's the meaning of this nonsense", asked my father. "They say your son is a shadowspawn, and that you and your family are darkfriends. They are killing everyone sir, you have to run!" The next thing I remember is my father giving me my little brother and telling us to escape with our mother. It was all a rush, I remember having my brother in my arms, my mother running beside me, I remember a barricade of whitecloaks in front of us and my mother throwing herself at them with only a hand-knife in her hand and telling me to run and that she loved me. I ran and I ran, suddenly two tall whitecloaks stood in front of me. One pushed me and the other took my little brother. I tried to channel instead of taking my sword out. I remembered ,like a fool, the history of the hundred companions and how they killed thousands of shadowspawn. The Source was there, but I couldn't reach it. Then the huge whitecloak killed my brother in front of my eyes. The other came for me with a sword in his hand. ...fear tore through the calm, fear of death... and then it came. A fireball leaped off of my hands and in a burst the whitecloak with the sword was dead. I can only remember running and running after that..... Pasmael took a deep breath and looked toward the future, A huge tower lay before him, the Grey Tower it was called. A place where he could learn what he was...he took one last breath and started forward...
Once he was called Dieb'nDore, “wind dancer”. But now
his name is
Pasmael “no hope”.
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