History

Father:

Hathelin son of Hamelin, called the "Far-sighted", was more bard than Ranger of the North. An average swordsman and sadly deficient archer, he was never known for his martial prowess amongst his people, despite inheriting his familial blade, the storied Valrion (of which he seemed to actively attempt to find as little usage as possible).

Chapter Three: On laughing

And so, Harkmorn's bodyguard unit, as one, were mentioned. Their size, larger than Harkmorn's, their weaponry, far superior when noted that Harkmorn was prohibited from carrying any form of harmful object - be it a pen, or an axe, and their mentality, greater... For Harkmorn's past "wisdom" had been lost to his insanity, as noted in previous writings.

Chapter One: A Thud, A thud some say.

It began with a thud, some say.

As the shadows moved across the floorboards above her, each noise made her twitch and cling against the wall. There was little that knew about the passage ways that twisted beneath their feet, but low lives and mice. It had been two days hiding in the dark. The news came to her from Duincerth as he stitched up her face, “Ya face is plastered all over the streets lass. They saying ya killed that man. Some lord of sorts. Regardless the wife wants a head. They have a rather large price on it.

History for Adhara

(Adhara has a long history, long before she came to Laurelin, where upon her arrival, she became known as Adharra – to help with confusion between variation on spelling)

Gentle and quiet in her ways, Adhara had no love of the sword

but sought seclusion in the shadows of great forests and trees.

Her breath echoed in her head. The hand clasped around her throat, becoming tighter every second that the correct answer was not given. Her eyes snapped open and studied the man with strained focused.

The man, stood before her like a mountainous troll. His eyes, fearsome to look upon and his stare sending shivers down her spine.  His face was chiseled, though it was frightening to look upon as his skin held many scars as well as an eye, whitened by damage of battles gone by. She feared to look upon him. There was something unwholesome about the man. Something not human.

The moon glowed high in the sky by the time Hyrien had got back to her home. The cold wind blew through her dark hair and the strands fell in front of her eyes, making it hard to see the key in the lock.  She snarled under her breath in frustration, shivering from the icy touch on her skin and it was at that moment she heard the lock click and she entered. The house was quiet. A usual occurrence these days from what once was busy household. However since the hall was built there were little to no visitors, though that bothered her little.