Returning BT Bio for Skechid Teobon - No CC

[Arath Faringal]

Character Name: Skechid Aran Teobon

Nationality: Cairhienin

Age: 21

Physical Characteristic:  Lean and athletic body. Exceptionally tall for a Cairhienin, about 6'. Dark, almost-black straight haired and dark-brown eyed. Fair and smooth skinned. Baby face without any trace of facial hair. Not very handsome, but attractive in a relatively pleasant way.

 

Physical Description: Has a scar running the length of arm, from a fall during hunting. Well groomed, like a typical High Seat Lord.

 

Personal History:  The blood of the House of Teobon ran strong. For three generations, the House had stood on its pinnacle, overlooking the city. Steeped in Daes Dae'mar, Cairhien was no place for the foolish, even less so for the inexperienced. House Teobon had once had its humble beginings, but that had long been passed off as history. The reckoning of its reputation could be seen in the impressive guestlist that had been showcased as the who's-who of the then-society. For years, the High Seat of house Teobon had ruled the other Houses. Sometime pitting one against the other, sometimes relying on the pure force of will and prestige to stand it's grounds as the strongest of the Houses.

It was a night of nights. The grounds shimmered with the glow of a thousand candles. Although the invite had called for solemnity, who could have resisted the charms of the nights. A feast was held only once every long while, and an opportunity to be invited to a celebration at the manor of House Teobon, not even the rudest of guests could refuse. It was a night of nights indeed. For that night, the forth generation of Lord Teobons was to be born. Or so the physician had said. To be timed perfectly, he had foretold as physicians do, with the last night of the winter solstice. And indeed, it seemed to befit the unborn child to be born into festivities. Befitting indeed, for the next High Seat. Gifts to lavish his first sight of the world, the sweetest perfumes and the most beautiful maidens beside him. It was all to be perfect. It had to be perfect.

High Seat Armandauss stared at the clock on the wall. His eyes drifting first from the candle then to the painting beside it. His wife's portrait was a sorry representaton of her. Lady Arimella Teobon's beauty while royal in the painting, set hearts pounding in real life. Armandauss Teobon prayed a quick prayer for her safety. he would never be able to live without her. And a child. That set his heart apounding. He was to be a father. He had never even come close to imagining how it felt like to be a father. The sensations ran through his head. It was a nauseating thing to wait. But that was all he could do for now. Wait.

The house seemed to shush for just the bare second before a baby's first cries filled the night with cheering and much congratulations. As Armandauss Teobon looked down at the bloody bundle that had been brought before him, he smiled. He seldom smiled, but when he did it made him look boyish again.

"I shall name him... Skechid Aran Teobon." He touched his finger first to his forehead then to the baby's, christening the baby. He smiled tenderly as the little thing gurgled slightly and then closed its eyes. Armandauss nodded and kissed his child, then handed it abck to the wetnurse. He looked into the bedroom to see his wife's smile. Then she too closed her eyes and fell asleep.

For the first time in his life, Arimandauss felt true joy. Honest joy. And for the first time in his life, he was a father.

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That had been 17 years ago. At the age of 19, Skechid had been proclaimed the High Seat of the magnificent house. Three tutors constantly by his side. One to teach the ways of the wild, one to teach the ways of world, the third to teach him the most timportant subject of all, the ways of the nobles. To the delight and surprise of many, the boy had been far more intelligent than most. Daes Dae'mar being his particular forte. It had been amazing that as a child, he had been one of his father's sharpest counsellors, many a time seeing things form a perspective most failed to notice.

He loved the ways of the world as well. Loving tracking and learning about medical properties of wild plants. And how to make the best meats taste the best after much time of stewing. With the right roots and leaves, even the roughest meats could turn out to be irrisistable. It worried Skechid not whenever he saw anyone who was sick or unwell. He had learnt how to make tinctures and poultices. It was a childish fantasy of his to be a healer some day. And it didn't seem so impossible after all.

As a Noble, he was well mannered and kind. A heart of gold, but a mind that sometimes was overly shrewd for his own good. Of course, growing up a Noble, he knew much of the ways of the Nobles. The ways of handling a sword. Horses loved him and his little titbits. In his own way, Skechid learned to be well loved by many things. And many people.

He had not been very handsome, merely pleasantly attractive, lean and athletic was his body. Exceptionally tall for a Cairhienin, dark haired and dark eyed. His skin was fair, a fact he hated. He wished he could have been born dark skinned and slightly beefier. But one had to live with what one had. And then came the introduction of women to his life. They seemed to love him. Women were the one thing he had headaches understanding. But Daes Dae'mar required civility towards them. Skechid was always civil. And so that was that.

He never understood the concept of destiny, making friends dozens by the dozens, never for once caring if any were "meant for him". In life's journey, one must learn to make do. And that was what Skechid did everyday. With a smile he woke up each day. And everynight, he thank the Creator for the day, smiled and then slept. He is fairly simple in appearance. So many think so. But they'd be wrong. For he never follows what most think of as right, nor does he meddle as a delegate of the Dark. He does what he wants, and more often than not, that has the best results.

 

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Skechie eventualy entered the Black Tower at the age of 26, having been discovered by the False Dragon Dramon as being able to channel. His first task was to set up a full Eyes and Ears system for the Ashaman. Drawing from the existing system he had for his House, he soon rose to the rank of Storm Leader, becoming one of th most respected and trusted members of the Tower.

 

Personally, he hated training. Exploding things and making things burn irritated him to no end, for he had always liked to do things indirectly. Either through Daes Dae'mar or by letting things happen. It was six months into his training that he met the second person that would feature prominently in his Tower life. Dalinarius Trachaanshield was one of his best friends, instantly becoming partners in crime in the Black Tower. Both of them were promoted to Dedicated on the same day, and to Ashaman within weeks of each other. But something more important held them together. Their love for the ancient weavings of Healing.

 

Skechid had always found an aptitude for Healing. As to Dali. Both worked miracles on the Farm, often bringing trainees almost from the brink of death and without the effects of normal Healing. They were both considered valuable assets and were amongst the first few induced into the Inner Council when Dramon set it up. That was a proud, but also sad day for Skechid. For the first time, he found his freedom curtailed. On top of that, each member of the Council had his movements noted and constantly under surveillance. As the Spy Master of the Black Tower, it became his duty to report he movements of his colleagues to Dramon, a task he found personally vile. This also drew him away from his other friends. It was difficult being friends with someone who was responsible for spying on you.

 

The Council was eventually disbanded, but it came too late for Skechid. He was pretty much spurned by the other Storm Leaders and Council members. Just as well that Dramon was eventually declared to be a False Dragon and the Dragon Reborn took over, it gave Skechid leeway to take a sabbatical.

 

Having sworn himself to the Dragon Reborn, Skechid took off into the world. Mingling amongst Nobility and feeling right at home in the usual intrigues and manipulations of the Houses. He dedicated his time to the growth of his House, once again bringing to the pinnacle of the Cairhienin Houses. He still threaded the Eyes and Ears of the Black Tower to his means and wrote periodic reports to the Dragon reborn, as was asked of him. But with each of his old friends from the Black Tower dying one after another, either due to war or to the Taint, his heart froze harder and harder, until he no longer felt emotions.

 

His last straw came when he heard that Dalinarius had fallen. That was the day his heart died, and he no longer lived. He breathed and moved, but he no longer felt.

 

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"It's happening." The man spoke as he bowed.

 

Skechid stared out of the window. Motionless.

 

"My Lord?"

 

"Leave me, Taelondain." Skechid's voice sent shivers down the man's spine.

 

"Yes, my Lord." Taelondain took a deep breath, bowed and again and almost ran out of the room.

 

"Taelondain?" Taelondain's feet stopped short of the door and he turned.

 

"Yes, my Lord?"

 

"Pack my things." Skechid turned back to look outside the window, as Taelondian nodded once more and left.

 

So Tar'mon Gai'don was finally here. Signs were everywhere. And his Eyes and Ears had reported far too much happening. Skechid would have to come out of seclusion after all. Far sooner than he had hoped. He had hoped it would happen after his death. But it had come too soon. He would have to get off his behind then. Work to be done. Duty called. Heavier than a mountain. Even if it meant he would have to return to the Black Tower again. It would probably not be the Tower he knew. But it was a Tower he belonged to nonetheless.

 

Perhaps he would die. Perhaps this time he would be at the frontline. He took a deep breath, and nodded. He would do that, yes. He had long given up the Talent of Healing, letting the loved oes around him die rather than touch them with the Taint. After all, he knew that life would not be easy had they survived. And more often than not, this was true. "They would have their own Healers now." He muttered aloud. "Probably stronger and more skilled than I."

 

Lifting his hand he pointed at the fireplace and seized Saidin. As the pain and life filled him, he wove Fire and Air. Skechid's eyes never unfroze as the fireplace exploded in a fireball, sending smoke boiling into the sky.