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Approved Warders Bio for Jorality Al'garanna--CC'd


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Character's name: Jorality Al'garanna

Age (must be 16 - 21): 21

Place of Origin (must be from the mainland of Randland): Taren Ferry, Andor

Hair Color: Red, Curly, approx. waist length.

Eye Color: Grey

Height: 5 feet even

Weight: 120lbs, an acrobat's build



Jorality is Andoran by birth and descent, her mother from Taren Ferry, her

father unknown to her. Petite at five foot even, she has an acrobat's build

and musculature. She is fast and agile, with sharp grey eyes, surrounded by

thick black lashes. Her hair and brows are both a ginger red color, her

hair long and curly. Jorality has a quick charm about her, often laughing

and joking when she's not doing serious work. She tends to hold back a lot

personally, trusting very few. But those who earn her trust, respect, and

affection are considered to be her family, and she will go to Shayol Ghul

for them if it's needed.


Brief History:


Fleeing Taren Ferry and the man who got her pregnant, Jorality's mother

Cissa Al'garanna gave birth to her daughter in Caemyln, during the spring.

Following her birth, her mother used her as a tool for pity when begging on

the streets. When Jory grew old enough and could speak well enough, her

mother put her on the streets to beg for herself, while she turned to other,

more lucrative methods of earning a few coppers. That line of work saw

Cissa in an early grave within a year. Only five, Jory had nothing, and no



She was taken in by an old beggar woman who took pity on her. Between the

old woman's rapidly deteriorating health, and Jory's pitiful youth and tiny

size, they manage to squeeze a little more pity than usual out of passerbys

in Caemlyn. Members of the Watch were slow to hustle the old woman and her

'granddaughter' away from richer folk, and would sometimes give a copper of

a bit of food to the pair. As winter of Jory's first year on the streets

drew near, the old woman took a turn for the worst. When she did not wake

up one morning, Jory covered her face with a scrap of cloth, took everything

of value that she could, and went to find a new place to beg.


Begging was a way of life until Jory was six. After that, a group of small

time thieves and pickpockets saw her potential usefulness. A young man

named Jimmy the Quick brought her into their small gang, where they taught

her how to run interference on the wealthier citizens of Caemlyn,

distracting them while their pockets were picked clean by the rest of the

gang. Jory quickly learned to take advantage of the situation, and began to

pick pockets as well. She kept her prizes secret from the gang, and by her

seventh year, had a small savings buried in a secret place under the

flagstones of her old squat. As she began to look less and less pathetic,

the gang began to mistreat her, telling her it was part of the ruse. They

would withhold food, telling her she didn't look hungry enough to the marks,

or hit her, saying she needed to appear more pathetic. About a month of

this continued before Jory, not a stupid child, struck upon a plan of her

own. Often she would sneak out of their hideaway at night, while the others

slept. But in order for her plan to work, they needed to be absolutely

certain not to wake up.


Jory found her way to an apothecary. With a few of her nicked coppers in

hand, she pleaded to the apothecary for something to make a big man sleep.

She wove a sad tale of a beaten mother, and a brutal father. She told the

poor woman that she and her mother were going to run away, but he needed to

be asleep, and he was a very light sleeper. Taking pity, the woman sold her

the bag of herbs for a single cup of Sleep tea for a large man. She told

Jory to mix it with a regular tea to hide the taste, and that it would make

him sleep for the whole night, and most of the following day. The little

girl gave a wobbly smile, and hurried away. That night, she mixed the herbs

with their evening teas, and passed out cups. Suspecting nothing, the gang

drank the tea, and went to sleep a short while later. Quickly as she could,

Jory raided all their private stashes, bits of jewelery, trinkets and coins,

and popped them in a satchel. Bundling it carefully under her ragged

clothes, the girl took herself into the night, and out of Caemlyn, onto a

merchant wagon bound for Cairhein.


By her eighth year, Jory had reached the Foregate of Cairhien, a warren of

dirt roads and slapped together wooden buildings, housing all manner of

folk. Jory found what she thought was an inn, a petite but tough looking

woman its proprietess. Upon asking for work, cleaning and the like, the

woman gave her a hard look over, and then nodded her head, once. Room and

board for cleaning; she would get no pay. In Jory's mind, that was fine.

She had a plan. For months, she established herself as a hard worker, if a

little stupid. She put up with the occasional cuff from the brothel

mistress, and put up with the simpering and coddling of the whores. She

felt badly for the whores; she understood now that her mother had been this

kind of woman, and being it had gotten her killed. Then, slowly, Jory began

to use the information she learned. Names of people and places. Her night

ramblings took her all around the Foregate, and she found herself a fence.

Slowly, she began to trade her trinkets for coins. Sometimes, on her way

back, she would buy food, and share it with other street children. Mostly,

she hoarded her coins away, and watched people.


One of her trips found her watching a juggler not far from the brothel where

she worked. The man tossed shining blades up into the air, whirling and

tossing them fearlessly. When a burly drunk tried to take his cup of coins,

without missing a beat, the man threw two daggers in front of the cup, a

silent warning. The drunk staggered off for easier prey, shoving Jory down

on his way. Jory scowled at the mans back, and then approached the juggler.

When the crowd thinned, she snuck closer, and he warned her away from his

cup the same way. She picked up the blade carefully, and tested the edge.

It was indeed as sharp as it looked. Carefully, she flipped it, end over

end, and caught the hilt in her palm. She looked up at the juggler, and he

grinned, and she tossed the blade back into his arc of shining metal, and he

took it back into the loop. Juggling blades with one hand, he tossed her a

blade. She caught it by the hilt, and he began to teacher how to juggle it.

As the sun crept over the horizon, he bought her breakfast at a stall, and

gave his name simply as Arrin. He gave her one of the small blades, and

told her to come back for another lesson the next night. Eager for this bit

of knowledge, Jory agreed, and ran off.


Her juggling lessons from Arrin continued for a few weeks, until one day, a

girl at his favorite inn read her a note. He had run afoul of a pretty lady

inside the city, and had to leave for a while. He left her a second dagger,

and wished her well. Saddened but not surprised, Jory took the gift for

what it was, and didn't look back. She was almost ten, and had grown to

expect such things in her life. Deciding to move out of the brothel she had

called home for two years before the Mistress turned her into a whore, Jory

attached herself to a circus caravan travelling through the city, and left


Foregate with her twice stolen treasures.


Her meager juggling ability got her bunked with a pair of jugglers, who

added to her

learning. While on the road with the slow moving caravan of entertainers,

Jory batted her lashes and pouted her way into lessons in knife throwing to

accentuate the juggling. She trained with the tumblers and acrobats, and


of the hostlers for the caravan horses taught her a bit of brawling, but the

boy was

much more interested in giving the girl a pinch or two than teaching her


She got more adept at dodging his advances than brawling. In each village

and town,

she pawned a few more of her trinkets, erasing her past, and turning it into



Jorality stayed with the circus caravan until she was twelve. By the time

she left the

carnival in Tear, the girl could throw knives and juggle passably well. She

was a skilled

pickpocket for her age, frequently being employed to lift from the crowds,

but felt guilty

taking from her fellow poor folk. Most of her money went to attiring

herself appropriately for the lower city; not so fancy as to be a mark, but

not the rags which drew attention to her as a thief. All went well for the

girl in Tear; she had uncommonly good fortune with the choosing of her

marks; gamblers and foolish nobles and merchants sons.


One particular night, her uncommon luck attracted her to a rakishly handsome

man she had seen a number of times before, but never had the courage to

foist from. As

she was slipping a hand out to cut his purse off with her tiny blade, he

caught her wrist, smiled, and winked at her. He introduced himself as

Martin, and said that she did well enough, but he would show her how to be

better. A fellow thief, a professional, had caught her trying to nick his

purse. Jorality, relieved he was not the watch in disguise, readily agreed

to whatever he asked.


Thirteen year old Jorality became Martin's shadow. She watched as he wooed

ladies and charmed men, foisting their goods while the laughed at his wit


good looks. He made her buy herself a nicer dress, and introduced her to

people as his

niece after a while, using her to distract, and attract women. He taught

her to read, and dance, and to do things that young upper middle class girls

should know how to do. When she wasn't learning to pretend at being a lady,

he taught her knife fighting, twists, holds, and grabs. Her favorite was a

single punch he'd taught her, which for her, needed a weighted fist or a sap

of some kind. He called it a 'nap tap', and for her, to knockout in one hit

was the best option, given her youth and small size. She was fast and

agile, but would never have much power to her, and he made that clear from

her first lesson. Four years passed, and when she was bigger and more


he began to tear her his true art; Catburglary.


Martin And Jory spent weeks just covering the city rooftops alone. They had

to watch out for city watch, personal guards, and the unique Thiefcatchers.

They could, he told her, sniff out wrongdoing and violence. Thus, it was

vitally important to be unseen, and if she was seen, to escape with as

little violence, and preferably no bloodshed. Jory remembered that lesson,

thinking back to the greasy man in the Foregate. At seventeen, Jory was


permission to work alone; to choose the mark, stake them out, and enter the

house alone. After three successful years at his side, Martin pronounced

her a

proficient cat burglar, and told her to leave Tear. Jorality was shocked

and hurt; she'd been his apprentice for seven years, and didn't want to


He was like family, and she told him so. Martin insisted, and though he

loved her like a daughter, told her that a city could have only so many of

their kind. She needed her own city, to spread her wings. Sullenly, Jory

agreed, and made travel plans.


Her year took her through three cities, ending eventually in Tar Valon. She

knew better than to even look at the tower; Tairens had instilled in her a

healthy respect for Aes Sedai, and it was said they could catch a thief with

a thought. She refrained from petty thievery, having enough savings to set

herself up, and maybe lead a comfortable life as an investor. Often while

in the city, she would see Gaidin at inns; she thought them strange. They

were uncommonly good fighters, powerful drinkers, and counted both men and

women in their ranks. It was this that interested her most about the

Gaidin. Thieves weren't concerned about Gender, but it seemed every one

else was. That Gaidin took women into their ranks made her seek out Inns

they frequented, watching and listening as she worked the other custom in

the room. The final turning point for Jory was, of all things, a dinner

party, held by a very gullible mark who had invited the charming young

redhead right into his home. For...investment purposes.


As the meal passed, she shared idle chatter with her Mark's little sisters,

parrying thinly veiled comments about her station and upbringing with sweet

comments about their farm animal dispositions. Her real attention was on

the Tower Guard that was also a guest. He was unbonded, so not a Gaidin,

but that was where his training lay. Though he ate, he watched everyone,

just the way that she did. Her Mark, the Guardsman's brother, tried to

charm her as best he could, but she made is kindly plain that she found his

brother more interesting. She batted her lashes, and asked rapid fire

questions about his training, and way of life. He answered them all with a

care to the secrecy of the tower, and after the meal, asked for a moment in

private. She readily agreed.


On the balcony, the Guard demanded to know why she asked such questions,

and what she was doing in his family's home. Jory debated the truth, then

smiled, and produced one of her daggers. She spun it across her knuckles

like Martin had taught her, tossed it in the air, and caught it, sheathing

it all in nearly the same motion. Then she stepped up on to the balcony

rail, and gave a theatric curtsey. "Professional Intrest," she claimed, and

nimbly found her way to the garden wall, over it, and away.


A few weeks later, Jory put her ill got gains in a bank, replenished and

refurbished her gear, and presented herself, somewhat nervously, at the

tower gates, asking after the Guard she had teased. When it was told to her

he was out on patrols in the Blight, she asked to be accepted into the


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Guest Arie Ronshor

You weren't kidding when you said you were bored.. >_<



Woo Hoo! the wench is approved! ;)


Welcome to the madness! *wacks with a dead fish*.... or was it the rubber chicken for the warders....




*wanders off*

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