Updated Bio for Serge Karminov - No CC

[Arath Faringal]

Name: Serge Karminov

E-mail: muirenn[at]gmail[dot]com

Division: Black Tower

Age: 24

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 180

Country of Origin: Illian

 

Physical Description: Serge has blond hair and blue eyes, he has a

short cropped beard, with a bare upper lip in the Illianer style. He

is stocky and well-muscled, from working in the harbour since he was a

boy. There is a thin white scar running from his collarbone to the

egde of his shoulder.

 

Personality: Serge is rather submissive, and is vain to a fault.  He is pretty and he knows it.  He does just about everything he can with saidin, preferring not to get his hands dirty.  Apart from the whole messiness of channeling and the ensuing insanity, he much prefers life in the Black Tower to peasantry in Illian's Perfumed Quarter.  He hates being used as a weapon, but is a natural follower and takes orders well.  He tries not to kill unless there is no other option.  He is not especially smart and is somewhat lazy.  He shirks chores when he thinks he can get away with it, which often backfires.  He has some aptitude for Healing, but not enough to be considered a true Talent (moderate Healing from the weaves list).  Being from Illian, he doesn't believe in trollocs or snow.  The unseasonably warm weather has yet to convince him differently.

Bio:

 

"Serge!"

 

The boy sitting on the edge of the dock looked up, brushing a thick

strand of golden blonde hair out of his eyes. He was barefoot, which

may not have been the best idea, given that the perfumed quarter was

not known for its cleanliness. But he liked to dangle his feet in the

water and watch the boats. He had just come in from one of the fishing

boats himself, and was watching the last rays of the sun on the water.

He hadn't needed to turn around to see who was calling, he recognized

the voice of his sister. She was probably calling him home for dinner.

But he was preoccupied with other matters. He dropped his head into

his hands again and stared as the sky went from firey orange to deep

purple.

 

The past few weeks had been strange at best. Events seemed to favor

him, a chance wind in the sails, a rich cache of oilfish, various

small things. He hadn't realized what was happening to him, hadn't

realized even after he began getting the blinding headaches at the end

of the day. He thought it must have been some illness that was going

around; such things were common in this part of the city. But there

had been no denying, no way to deny, what he was when during one of

those headaches a crate had burst into flame. He made some excuse,

about a spark from a pipe, and had paid for the cargo out of his

wages. But it had happened again, this time without the headache. And

he knew that he had to go, had to leave his home, his sister, his

parents. He just couldn't get the stories out of his head. The stories

of Lews Therin Kinslayer, the one they called the Dragon. Stories of

those who had claimed the title of Dragon falsely thoughout the years.

 

And the worst of it was that Saidin was tainted.  There was nothing

safe about this destructive Power he was somehow using without knowing

how. So Serge knew he could not stay here. He would not risk harming

his family, unintentional as it would be.  He could not save himself,

but he could at least spare them.

 

"Serge! Mother did send me to bring you inside, and I do be certain

that she would be having my hide if I did come back without you! So

you best be putting back on your boots now!"

 

Serge sighed, pulled his shoes over, and began putting them on. This

would be the last night he spent at home, and no one yet knew it but

him. He stood, taking one last look back at the sea he so loved, and

turned his back on it, not knowing if he would ever see it again, much

less when. He would leave on a ship early next morning.  He would go

north.  As far away from here as he could manage.

 

"Deidre!" he called, "Wait, I do be coming with you."

 

~~~

 

When Serge arrived at the Black Tower after meeting a recruiter in Tear, it was discovered that he had a block to seizing saidin.  He could only channel when the situation was completely out of his control.  Which meant that for all meaningful purposes, he couldn't channel at all.  Instead of a usual Asha'man mentor, he was given into the care of the Weaponsmaster, Marden.  A raging drunk, Marden was nevertheless very skilled at his craft.  Serge was taught the sword and was pushed hard in his training and in his chores in hopes that it would break his block.  It wasn't until Marden took him out one day and beat him within an inch of his life that he was finally able to channel to defend himself, nearly killing Marden in the process.  The shock of it made him rush to help Marden, who he delved without thinking.  Since then he has been able to seize saidin at will.  His training progressed quickly, and he was raised to Dedicated within the year. 

 

A few months ago, he was out on patrol and was part of the group of Asha'man ambushed by a group of Aes Sedai who Travelled from the White Tower.  The orders were given to subdue the women, not to kill.  Since Serge had been abysmal at his shielding class, he ended up bonding one of the Sisters in order to pacify her, a Red named Maegan Ryanne.  Being naturally submissive, he was an equally abysmal bondholder, and apart from ordering her not to attempt escape or to harm any of the members of the Black Tower, he stayed away from her as much as possible.  Which was pretty easy to do since he could tell when she was coming.  It also meant that he spent much more time in classes than was usual for him, and even took to instructing some of the soldiers.  She tended to stay away when she knew he was channeling.  That suited him just fine.  He was thrilled with he treaty agreed to with the White Tower that allowed him to release the bond and get that bloody woman out of his head.

 

A few weeks after she left, he was awarded the dragon pin.  Most of his responsibility is helping to oversee the infirmary and teaching soldiers and Dedicated.  He is rarely sent on patrol.