Character History Born to the parents Fronin and Nikki Dawnlight on the 30th day of Novi Sanctifis, year of the Lady 1114 in the city of Greymarch.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
Aldarin is a tall human male in his late 20's. Dark brown eyes show a deep wisdom and intellect, somewhat beyond his years. He has a full head of red hair, combed, well kept, and falling past his shoulders. His muscular body is well formed, with broad shoulders, and thickly muscled legs. Around his neck is a golden chain with a disk of rosy pink, a symbol of his faith, and devotion to Lathander. He normally wears a set of elaborate Sun Robes. The robes are Yellow in the main body, with a swirling disk of pink on the chest, and rays of red stretching out from the pink sun to the arms and legs. Hanging from a thick belt at his waist is a flail and the leather wrapped grip show years of use. When traveling he wears a sturdy looking helm on his head and a shield on his left arm.
Height: 5' 9" Weight: 153 lbs. Hair: Long red curly Eyes: Dark brown, serene and thoughtful. Voice: Wise and soothing. Stature: Tall, muscular
Background
The midday sun shone on Aldarin's back as he clambered through the rigging of the _Last Breath_. Stopping to catch his breath halfway up, he looked down to the deck below. His father stood next to the ship's captain, both of them engrossed in a discussion of the shortest route to take to Gilliot; a delay at the warehouse had held up the _Breath_'s departure for nearly a fortnight and there was now a danger of encountering storms in the Gulf.
Master Fronin Dawnlight was a large and imposing man, once a sea captain himself before founding his own shipping company. He stood in the late Maercaate heat in only doublet and hose, his coat tossed carelessly on a nearby barrel. In his youth Fronin would have laughed at the thought of wearing such impractical clothes, but the love of a woman can inspire many changes.
One of the reasons Fronin Dawnlight had given up his seafaring ways was a girl by the name of Nikkola Malon, a blue-eyed beauty he met in Yaad. For three years they had met every time his ship made landfall in that city, and though she flirted madly with him she never let Fronin bed her. Had she been any other girl, the captain would likely have written her off as a tease and set his cap elsewhere, but Nikki (the only name he knew her by in those days) was no ordinary girl. Smart, beautiful, able to match any sailor drink for drink and still have the grace of a swan, she was a challenge he could not pass up.
Without making a conscious decision to do so, Fronin had become faithful to her alone; he was so fascinated that he simply never looked at other women anymore. After three years of courtship, he finally proposed. Nikkola warned him that the sea would be his mistress no more. She knew all too well that the sea was a jealous lover, taking many a husband for herself beneath the waves. Fronin learned also that Nikkola was the daughter of the Major of Yaad, which surprised him but in no way cooled his ardor.
Like many sea captains whose younger years had left them behind, Fronin had long dreamed of quitting the sea altogether and joining the more profitable and less dangerous ranks of the merchant class. Between the money he had saved and Nikkola's dowry, he was able to realize his dream with little difficulty. The newlyweds set up their household in Greymarch City, as a merchant in Yaad married to the Major of the city would be a suspicious thing at best.
Aldarin was proud of his parents and all that they had built for themselves and for him. He was their only child, and all of them expected that he would take over his father's business when the time came. Fronin had not been young when he had married Nikkola and the years were beginning to take their toll on him now.
Putting aside his thoughts, Aldarin continued his climb up to the crow's nest. He had always helped his father out when he could, and today he had volunteered to check the 'nest for birds and other unwanted guests. As he climbed higher, the wind grew stronger; Tsunamis would come soon, he knew. He opened the hatch at the bottom of the crow's nest and began to haul himself up into it.
A loud cry from above told Aldarin that his trip had not been in vain.... Something was up there. Before he could get himself through the hatchway, sharp beaks snapped at his fingers. Unbalanced, he drew back his hands before he realized that nothing else was holding him up. He fell past the many ropes and spars between him and the deck, but they all eluded his grip. Halfway down he managed to grab a rope with one hand. The skin of his palm burned and bloodied, and the force of his falling wrenched his arm from its socket. Unable to maintain his grip, Aldarin fell the rest of the way to the deck and all went black.
10th Day of Tsunamis, Year of the Lady 1130
Aldarin lay unconscious for a week after his fall on the _Last Breath_. He had been taken to the nearest temple, a shrine to Lathander maintained by the Order of the Dawn. They had treated his injuries as best they could, and counseled patience as the days went by and Aldarin had not woken.
During that week, Aldarin had dreamed of many things. His dreams were chaotic and quite disturbing at first, though he soon resigned himself to the endless visions of horrible creatures writhing in darkness. Finally, when he thought he would surely go mad, a new light shone in his dreaming world, growing slowly and pushing back the demons an inch at a time. As the last of them retreated from his dreams, Aldarin woke.
The waking world had not filled him with much joy when he returned to it. His head and arm ached horribly, though he seemed to have retained full use of all his limbs. His weeklong coma had taxed his body also, and he felt very weak. Worst of all, when he opened his eyes the world was no brighter than when he had them closed; he had been struck blind. He recovered quickly from his weakness, and exercise eased the aches of his body, but a week had passed and still he could not see.
Aldarin woke and wondered what time it was. He had begun to learn to compensate for his blindness now that his initial fear and anger had died down. The warmth of the sun, the sound of voices, the texture of a wall, all these things told him what his eyes did not. He heard the chirping of crickets from outside, and decided that it was probably before sunrise still.
He had yet to leave the temple, even though his major injuries were healed. Being isolated by his blindness, Aldarin had become more introspective over the past week, wondering what he would do with the rest of his life. He was reluctant to return home, as he doubted he would be able to resume the life he had known. His parents would care for him and support him, he had no fear there, but he doubted that he would ever be able to fulfill his and his parents' dream of following in his father's footsteps.
Aldarin sighed and closed his eyes. A wave of depression washed over him, turning his limbs to lead and sapping the will to move. He often wished that he had died instead, though he knew that it was selfish of him to do so; his parents would rather have him alive than dead, no matter what his condition. Depression gave way to a calm emptiness, where Aldarin was aware of nothing but the feel of the bed beneath him and the singing of the crickets outside.
A single bell tolled from the top of the temple. Aldarin had heard that bell every day he had been there, and no others. It was the morning bell, the bell that signaled the first rays of dawn. From elsewhere in the temple, chanting could now be heard: the morning devotional of the Order of the Dawn. The words spoke of Lathander and her battle with the creatures of Cyric, of the dawn as her grace filling the world each day and banishing Cyric's darkness. Aldarin listened to the words as he lay in bed. Silently, he prayed to the goddess: "Lathander, I am filled with fear. I do not know what will become of me. I am filled with despair. Grant me the strength to live again." The chanting continued, and Aldarin listened to the droning words as they heralded the rising sun. After the voices stopped, he lay in silence again; even the crickets had stopped their chorus.
Eventually, the sun shone in through the window, warming Aldarin's hand. He stood and walked to the window, feeling the warmth on his face as well. After a moment, he opened his eyes. Somehow, he was not surprised to see the dawn.
1st Day of Kythorn, Year of the Lady 1134
Aldarin stood, having completed his morning devotional. His cell was sparsely furnished: a bed, a chair and small table, a chest, a basin, and an armor stand. Clad in only a grey woolen robe, he stood at the window and looked out at the newly risen sun. The waves sparkled where the sea flowed through the middle of the city, and Aldarin wondered what his father was doing. Fronin had taken an apprentice when his son had decided to enter the Order, content with Aldarin's belief that Lathander had returned his sight in return for his service against Cyric. The business had prospered, and Aldarin was glad that there were competent hands to take over when his father was ready to retire. Nikkola was a strong and passionate woman, but her part had always been to represent Dawnlight Trading to the city council rather than the day-to-day operations at the docks.
Aldarin was no less pleased with his own progress. The loyalty to his father that had made him such a willing helper with the family business was mirrored by his new loyalty to Lathander. He trained tirelessly and without complaint, impressing even the most curmudgeonly of the Order's masters. The Order of the Dawn was a militant order, dedicated to the opposition of Cyric's minions through direct conflict. To this end, Aldarin had received education of a physical nature in addition to his spiritual tutelage. The past few years had seen Aldarin patrolling the vicinity of Greymarch City in search of evil, and often finding it. He was well suited to this sort of work, and quite content.
A knock on the door diverted Aldarin's attention. He stepped across the small room and opened the door. "Good morning, Father Domin," he said.
"Lathander's' peace be with you," replied Domin. He was almost the same age as Aldarin's father, and shorter than Aldarin by a hand's breadth, but the young priest had learned long ago that Domin was more than a match for most warriors half his age and twice his size. Scratching his short white beard, Domin stepped inside Aldarin's room, closing the door behind himself.
"As you may know, it is common for the devoted of Lathander to spend some time in the field, living without the support of the temple. I believe that this time for you has come." Domin sighed. "I do not like to see you go Aldarin but it is the way of our order. May Lathander light your path."
Aldarin merely nodded for so was the way of Lathander and the next day he left walking toward the unknown.
For the next two years, his life was very interesting, at least to him, not really adventure, for he found that he had to make a living, and forge his way in the world. He worked as a blacksmith, and stonemason in the nearby wildlands, where the human communities were busily expanding into the unclaimed lands. He occasionally was forced to take up arms against orcs, wolves and the occasional ogre, and always his faithfull mace served him well. At the age of 20 Aldarin had had enough of the life of a blacksmith, and stonemason. He could make most forms of armor, and was adept at construction, having built several of the buildings in town almost entirely on his own.
Aldarin joined forces with a group of humans and elves that were going deeper into the wildlands to reclaim a rumored city of treasure. It took over 6 months to make it to their destination, and during that time Aldarin learned much from the elves, riding, building fires, and hunting and how to read the weather. He also learned of their homeland, and taught them of Lathander. It was a good time in his life. They faced danger almost every day, for the wildlands were infested with dangers. Ogres, and giants, and hordes of kobolds and goblins. But through it all, they survived. Then they were before the city. Shadow surrounded it, and it seemed a presence of evil could be felt. Steeling their nerves, the group entered. What seemed like a year was in reality only 11 days, and when it was over of the 7 who had entered the city, only 3 were alive, Aldarin, and Aril the elven wizard whom Aldarin carried out on his back, and Romand the human priest of Tyr. The brought with them, heavy hearts at the loss of their comrades, but they also brought a magical bag, filled with treasures, and the head of a lich, the enemy who had infested the abandoned city with evil.
Aldarin took a ring that protected him from fire, and a gem studded bracelet with a magical stone set in it. They carried coins of gold and platinum, and bars of gold. By the time they returned home, Aldarin was 24 years old, and wealthy. During the travel home, Aldarin grew as well, he seemed wiser, and more thoughtful, and learned several skills from his companions, he learned to hunt and fish, and swim, and spent a lot of time gathering food for the three of them, and warding off enemies. Aril was able to examine the ring, and determine that it had hidden qualities, it could summon fire, and with the added power of the ring, they were able to return home safely.
Aldarin returned home for a while, and told his parents of his adventures, his mother wanted him to stay home for a while, but Aldarin and Romand had promised Aril that they would meet him at the coast, and travel to his homeland. After seeing the human lands, Aril wanted to show them the elven lands. And so Aldarin was off again after several weeks at home. The elven lands were truly amazing, Aldarin was able to see sights that he would never forget. He saw noble dragons, great elven ships, and thin stone spires that stretched to the sky. While Romand and Aldarin were among the elves, a black dragon of unusually size attacked the elven lands. Aldarin and Romand of course volunteered to help. And together with Aril, and several elven rangers, they were able to track the beast to its lair, and destroy it.
Aldarin took several teeth from the dragon, ad well and a thick black scale from its mighty back. The elves were so amazed at the way the dragon was dispatched that they offered to let Aldarin and Roman live among them for a while, and they both accepted. Aldarin spent a happy year among the elves, learning to craft armor, and to build with stone like the elves did. The year flashed by, and when it was up, Aldarin and Romand were told that they must go. Aril too was staying, but he had a gift for each of them, A magical shield made from the Black Dragon Scale for Romand and a Rod carved from the tooth of the dragon for Aldarin. The rod would bring back fallen comrades from the dead, so that Romand And Aldarin would never again lose a friend when his or her time was not past.
Aldarin and Romand returned home, and found that stories of their adventures had preceded them, when they made it back to the human lands there were warriors gathered, come to see Aldarin and Romand to pledge their service. Aldarin and Romand decided to stay together, and returned to Aldarin's home. Coming home with Aldarin was a band of warriors. A young human warrior named Eric, a large mercenary band, come to see the one who destroyed the lich, they were 120 strong, 20 mounted cavalry, and 100 infantry, armored with halberds, and scale mail. And finally a small band of knights with heavy war horses, in full barding.
When Aldarin returned home, his father and mother finally convinced him to remain home, and gave him a small estate where he could garrison his troops. Aldarin was now 29 years old, and was learning the arts of battle, training with his troops, and engaging in the mock war games his father's temple put on. Soon Aldarin's name was as well known as his father's. Another year went by, Aldarin took the 'army' as he took to calling it, out to several nearby towns and helped to defend against the marauding orc hordes. Aldarin sent word to Aril, and told him of what had happened in the past year.
Aril did not respond, and another year passed. On Aldarin's 21st birthday, many things happened. His father took ill, with a condition that could not be cured. His mother told him of the fight his father had been waging against time, he had been using his magics to keep himself fit, but now even those were failing. Aldarin was grief stricken, and went to see his father. He and his father and mother stayed up all night, and spoke, and in the morning, Aldarin had decided to join the priesthood. He went to his old friend Romand, and spoke with him. Romand agreed to oversee the training of the troops while Aldarin was involved with the church. Romand told Aldarin that he would keep them ready for when he returned, because he knew Aldarin would. Late that night Aril appeared in town, leading a magnificent animal. A elven war horse, bigger and stronger and faster than human bred horses Aril had said, fitting for a friend of the elves, and for a commanded of men. Aldarin and Aril and Romand spent a week together, reminiscing of old times, and what fun they had.
Aldarin's father passed away two years later. Many of the parishioners abandoned the church, having been loyal to his father, but some remained, trusting in Aldarin's name, and in his mother's honor. By then Aldarin had become a full Dawnmaster in the church, and was growing in power. He was able to cure grievous wounds, with a prayer, and able to destroy undead with a thought. He learned to paint, and work with wood, and learned the art of engineering. These skills strengthened his mind and aided in opening his mind to new skills and new powers. Aldarin learned to read and write both the human and elven languages. And on many occasions was called upon to help rid the lands of one source of undead or another. Sometimes Romand accompanied him leading the troops in battle against hundreds of undead. Always Aldarin overcame, his faith in Lathander grew stronger each day. Aldarin fought wraiths, and Deathknights, and even came across a vampire, though he was not able to destroy it, he did drive it away, and destroy it's lair.
When Aldarin was 26 years old, he again took up command of the army, and once more went into the wildlands, back to the city of treasure, new monsters inhabited it, but with an army at his back, and Lathander in his heart he was able to vanquish it, and come away with several wagon loads of treasure. These he used to outfit his army with the best in armor and weapons, and to build the defenses of the city into something to be proud of. Then he began the construction of the temple. A magnificent creation reminiscent of the elves. For three years he built by hand, hiring help when necessary, and making use of those skilled laborers within his army. And finally on the eve of his 29th birthday the temple was complete. All it needed now was a centerpiece. The temple stood atop the mountain, overlooking the great inland sea. Three stories of marble and stone walls, open windows everywhere, the main prayer chamber was large enough to seat over 400 people, and had a huge open window that faced the eastern sky, ready to catch the earliest rays of the morning sun.
Aldarin lives rather contend now, leading his flock but often, he looks back at his adventuring days, the fire of adventuring still burning in softly his veins.