There weren't any storms, high winds, or other natural pyrotechnics on
the night of the birth of Ashen Grae. All seemed calm in his Altene village on that
night, to some extent even for his mother. After seven other births, this one seemed
almost routine, and would have been wholly unremarkable, except for his father's haste in
providing a name - so many siblings had tried his imagination, and, well, the boy's eyes
were grey, weren't they? And so Ashen was born into a large warrior family,
well-regarded for strength and ability by even the high standards of his countrymen.
Unfortunately, Ashen didn't completely fit the mold that his elder siblings had
established.
Ashen lacked the hulking strength and size that seemed so normal for his family.
During his many scraps with the larger boys, he learned to take advantage of other
talents: an impressive natural agility, and a love for battle. This latter may
not have strictly been an advantage, as he found it difficult to resist a challenging
fight. His mother soon learned to keep her stock of salves and bandages full, as
beating followed brutal beating. However, even the lost contests brought further
wisdom, and the boy grew into a deadly warrior.
As so many of his countrymen before him, Ashen has left his home in search of his
destiny. He is a nimble enemy in a fight, whirling his quarterstaff and striking
where there appears to be no opening. While quick to join battle, he is not
hot-headed; he fights for the love of the contest and the beauty of a well-placed strike.
Ashen has arrived but lately in the fair city of Iridine, and he is enjoying
himself immensely. He hopes to someday join the constabulary, as the steadfast honor
shown to him by these warriors has impressed him considerably. He is quick to help,
and slow to judge, but has no tolerance for those who dishonor the city through violent
crime, be it mugging, rape, or vigilante "justice". Iridine is his new
home, and he wishes those within to treat it with respect.
Ashen is looking forward to meeting you, either facing him in a sparring match, or at his
back in the midst of battle. Or better yet, with a mug of your posca in his hand!
Fare well, citizens, and remember: Iridine will always shine.