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Approved WY bio for Vincent Arioth- CC by the WT


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Character’s name: Vincent Arioth

Age : 16

Place of Origin: Andor

Hair Color: Blonde

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 5’11

Weight: 187lbs

Brief History:  Vincent was born to a middle class family, not enough cash to move up in life, but definitely comfortable. His father was the reason for this lifestyle, reaping the benefits of his officer standing in the Queens Guard, though in truth it wasn’t all for his family. Reiald Arioth was an absolute fanatic of the Monarchy. It mattered not what women sat on that throne, Vincent’s father was a nationalist through and through. He supported the Queen in every mood she made, defending her at every turn. Reiald was even a supporter of the Queen’s Aes Sedai advisor. “Who am I to decide who the Queen can trust?” These were his father’s famous words and the ones that his son took to heart.

While his father was far from neglectful, he was normally busy. In his young years, his mother explained it simply to him. “Your father loves two women, and some days I’m not sure that I’m the one he loves more.” The words had a profound effect on the young child, revealing to him what he considered simple truths. There was more to die for than family. As he grew up, he found himself wondering what there was to die for. Though he did love the Queen, he never believed that a country was worth his life. There were other countries, and countries died. What was permanent? What was sacred in this world? The answer was revealed to him at eleven years old, standing in a crowd watching the Queen in one of her parades. The Queen herself drew the eyes of almost every eye in that crowd, Andorian pride at work. All those eyes, except one set.


He couldn’t keep his eyes off the women who walked to the side of the queen, her posture perfect, every move the epitome of grace, serenity on a beautiful face that he couldn’t seem to put an age to. To put it simply, it was the Queen’s advisor that he admired. The Aes Sedai.  She was magnificent! Who else could walk beside a Queen, what force outlasted countries, or even ages? What group held the mystic of all the people of all the nations? Aes Sedai. A smile crept over his yet juvenile features. He had found something worth dying for.

The day after the parade, he stayed up far past his curfew, and stood in front of the door, awaiting his father to come home. As soon as he walked in that door, his head cocked, staring at the determined look in his young son’s eyes. “What do we have-“ Vincent cut him off, “I want to learn the sword.” His tone was so unlike the normally light, youthful tone that his son normal displayed. That simple statement was filled with absolute certainty, with a clarity that defied his age. His father’s back straightened, surprised to say the least. “I won’t bother asking if you’re sure, that wouldn’t do you justice. So, follow me son.” The young child nodded, and followed his father up the stairs to the attic.

As he stood in front of the wooden ladder, dropped from the ceiling by Reiald, Vincent realized that he had never stepped foot in this part of the house. Eagerness mixed with a strange sense of foreboding, almost like he was trespassing on some sacred ground. This didn’t stop him; he knew what was contained in this room. His father motioned for him to climb, and he did. What he saw took his breath away. A simple cache of weapons, throwing knives, daggers of varying sizes, swords to follow suit. A few axes, polearms, and a few sets of highly polished armor. “If ever I or my men couldn’t get to the armory, for whatever reason, I wanted to make sure that we were prepared. Though I feel guilt for having such things, these are the reason why you, boy, aren’t better educated.”

Vincent nodded, it’d always seemed like he had been denied the education that the other children flaunted around him, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t need to know the Old Tongue to be able to wield a sword. Besides, he was intelligent in ways they weren’t. He could see strategy, had a deeper understanding of himself, and actually possessed common sense. Something the others lacked. “Sereth, you’re young, and weak. There is no way you can swing around a man-sized sword, axe, or anything else.  So-“ His father moved to a selection of daggers mounted on a far wall. He pulled a long dagger from it, and returned it to his son. “This will have to do. As you age, I will give you more appropriate weapons, but this is the closest you can come to a sword at your age. You should be able to learn the basics of the sword with this.” Vincent nodded, moving to unsheathe the dagger.  His father’s quick hands stopped him, “Not yet, first you have to promise me this. You will never use a blade unless your life or that of whatever you choose-“he looked into his son’s eyes, seeing the familiar fanatic beginnings in his only child, “well, chose to protect. This is no toy, and it’s not to be treated as such.” Vincent nodded, and spoke, again in that cold, sure tone, “My blade will be one to protect, not to destroy.” Normally, Reiald would have required an oath, but the truth was, he knew his son already had sworn on the thing he valued most. “Good, and for now keep it in the garden. I will teach you what I can, but I do have responsibilities. Do not hurt yourself.” Again Vincent nodded, taking his dagger to his room, and falling to sleep. Leaving his stunned father with a grin on his face. Like father like son.

The next day, he awoke early, pulling his dagger and going down to his family’s small garden. He swung it, each swing overbalancing his inexperienced body, and he quickly grew tired. He looked at the weapon, and sighed. Even this was too much for him. He would have to get into shape if he was to learn how to fight. He quickly dropped to his chest, extending his arms to build up strength. He could only do ten. His arms ached, but he was determined not to stop exercising. He began to run around the small garden, doing lap after lap. In this time, his father came out to make sure everything was alright, and could only grin further. His son’s dedication would get him somewhere someday, that he was sure of. Though instead of aiding his son on his first day, he donned his breast plate, and left for the castle.

Vincent continued to train his body, working his arms until exhaustion, and then working his legs by running, pushing himself to the edge every day. His physical condition improved quickly, and he found himself running far longer, doing more pushups, and swinging his long dagger for more each day.  His father taught him, as promised, but only sparingly. Vincent did learn not to overbear himself from his father, and to use controlled thrusts as well as swings. He learned how to properly sheath a blade, and basic technique. Reiald’s duty however, dominated his life.

The other children noticed Vincent’s new found physical ability, and laughed. “Hey look, the oalf is learning his place and becoming a brute!” The high pitched laughter of the other boys forced Vince to grit his teeth, but he wouldn’t attack them. He was there to protect, not destroy. As it most often does, this lack of retaliation led to further harassment, and this group of children grew sure of themselves. Five boys attacked Vincent from behind. He never stood a chance.

He came home bruised, bloodied, and his mothers concern was tangible. “What happened? Were you mugged? Are you alright?” Vincent shook his head. “I’m fine mother, and no I wasn’t mugged. I was attacked by other boys, but don’t worry. They can only hurt me so bad.” He smiled, all his teeth intact. Afterward, the most amazing thing happened. The boy went to the garden, and began to practice swinging his dagger, did his pushups and a variety of other upper body workouts, and began to jog. His mother cried, watching her baby trying to become a warrior. She couldn’t decide if she should be proud, or grieve, but in the end she let him be. This was the path he’d chosen.

Vincent did heal, and he was beaten again, and again, and again. Each time doing a bit more damage to his opponents. Finally, after five years, he won. They tried the tested method, sneaking up behind him on his way back to his home. Vincent heard them coming, having long since memorized the sound of their approach. One of them charged at Vincent’s back, and Vince turned. His full momentum and weight put behind a single punch to the young man’s face. One down, four to go. The others growled curses, and they too charged the Arioth boy. The first reached him, and Vince knocked away his fist, landing his own blow to the quickest’s stomach, putting him out for a while. The next to, there was no way he could block all of those shots. So he back peddled, using his arms to take the brunt of the attacks. Still, he took a beating. Though it hardly mattered, he’d taken beatings from these punks before. A quick jab took one of his attacks in the face, and he to fell, the other immediate threat took a rain of lightning quick jabs before he too fell. The last, simply fled.

Vincent ignored the pain he took as he walked home, a familiar companion by now. As he walked into those front doors, his mother and father sat at the table. Vincent looked them both in the eye, and Reiald nodded his head, his mother looking from father to son, puzzlement etched clearly into her beautiful features. “I’m going to Tar Valon. I’m going to be a Warder.” His mother stood, but the calming hand of his father rested on her shoulder. Her head swiveled to Reiald, “No, you can’t-“ The eyes of the Queen’s Guardsmen said everything. A sob escaped that rosebud mouth, “Fine. Just, try not to die on me Vincent, please.” All Vincent could do was walk towards his mother, and give her a hug. He gathered his original dagger, and his newer bastard sword. With that, he set off to protect.


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Hehe thanks, but on rereading it I made a rather large error.


“Sereth, you’re young, and weak. There is no way you can swing around a man-sized sword, axe, or anything else.  So-“


I used the name of one of my other characters, if someone could change that for me, I'd appreciate it.    ;D

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