Before you is a tall young man. You would place him at just over six feet in height. His handsome face is worn from weather and darkened from the sun. His jaw line is square, and his cheekbones high. There is a small scar on his forehead. His short brown hair is somewhat unkempt and gives him a roguish appearance. His eyes are a deep green, the color of emeralds. His thick neck evolves into broad shoulders and a barrel-like chest. His arms are large and very well-defined. His hands are as darkened and worn as his face, with numerous scars and small cuts. His legs are rather thin compared to the rest of his body, and quite long. His posture is proud and noble.


Before you is a middle-aged man. You would guess him at
about six feet in height, though he seems to be slouching a bit. His handsome face is very rugged, worn from weather, and
darkened from the sun. His jaw is covered with a thick brown beard, streaked with gray. There is a small scar on his forehead. His hair is short, and somewhat unkempt, brown and also speckled with gray. He has a bit of a roguish look to him. His eyes are a deep emerald green, and there is a bit of sadness in them. His neck is thick, and his shoulder broad. His chest is barrel-like, though not as big as it was in his younger days. His arms are still large, though no longer so well-defined. His hands are darkened from the sun, and creased with age. His legs are long and thin, as they always have been. His posture is somewhat slouched, but his head is held high with pride.






Ildareen knows nothing of the following….

The warlord cursed the heavens as he watched another of his seamen get
tossed over the side by the crushing waves. The rain slashed down at his face, seeming to be thrown at him by Shokai himself. That one made six in the last twenty minutes, at this rate, he would have to go down and try to manage the rigging by himself. He snarled as he turned struggled down to the lower decks, being thrown to the deck every few steps. A particularly violent lurch tossed him down the stairs when he was about half way down. He teetered through the hallway to a small room. Inside, his surgeon was overseeing the birth of his son. The woman was royalty in the port city of Seantryn Modan. Roughly nine months earlier, Marstilion had raped her. He had caught her unawares outside of the city, while she was picking flowers with her maidens. When it was learned that she would give birth to an illegitimate child, she was cast from the royal house. She staggered around in the city, until one evening, Marstilion spotted her and her swollen belly. He abducted her and set out for Arkham. He wanted a son, and she would give it to him. About a week out of Arkham, they hit a terrible storm, it threw them wholly off course, and now, he had no idea where he was. She had been in labor now for twenty hours, and the surgeon would have to cut her open to get at the child. Marstilion ordered it done, and the woman died on that table. The child was cleaned up, and swaddled in black cloth. Marstilion had no basinet, so he lay him in an emptied treasure chest. He named him Karsithius, and returned to the weather decks of the ship. This is the last time he would ever see his son, or anyone for that matter. The storm that night was perhaps the most terrible Thera had seen. His ship was tossed about like a child’s toy. Lightning struck the mast, and the ship was hurtled into huge rocks off the coast of Balator.
Miraculously, young Karsithius was spared. In the chaos, his makeshift
basinet had closed over top of him, and secured itself tightly. It was spared the crushing force of the rocks, and the fire that aided in consuming the ship. The storm almost immediately calmed, and deposited the child on the shores, unharmed.

It was in this way, that a watchman from the city of Balator found him. Safely locked in a chest, wrapped in black cloth. He looked about for a moment, and then carried him off to the orphanage in that township. It was there that the child was named Ildareen. He was raised with the other orphans, but preferred usually to be alone, running off through the quiet woodlands around Balator. He spent some time in the school for warriors there, though not as a student, mostly just watching from the corner, admiring the skill of the young warriors enrolled there. Life was carefree, until one evening, when he was heading home he heard screams from inside the orphanage. He ran into the orphanage, and nearly passed out from the scene before him. There were dead bodies everywhere, blood sprayed across the walls and floor, even intestines of
children strewn across the hallway. He could barely keep himself from
screaming when he heard another scream from a bedroom. He inched closer, and then a fire giant ducked out of the room, holding a bloody axe, he was followed by a scruffy duergar and then a drow with the most terrible, hateful eyes he had ever seen. The drow screamed out and went after him, he turned to run, but the evil elf grabbed him by the hair. The other two laughed as he went to slit Ildareen’s throat. Ildareen picked up his feet, causing the drow to nearly topple from the weight, and land only a glancing blow on his forehead. The boy rolled onto his back and kicked with all his might, sending the drow rolling backwards. In a flash, Ildareen was back on his feet and fleeing
through the hallway, and out into the woods. The three gave chase, but lost his trail just into the woods. A storm had begun to brew and was washing away any trace of the young boy.

Ildareen fled west across the forests and the plains. He finally ran into the River Erinin, and followed it north to Tar Valon. He wandered through the city for a few days, finally finding solace in the Ogier Grove. After spending only one night there, he was approached by a ranger from the guild in that city, who took him in and got him enlisted in the Academy.

Ildareen believes very strongly in the Lord Saldradien, being the god of
storms. It is by his grace, that he is alive to this day, and for that, owes him his service. He is pure, though (unbeknownst to him) the darkness, greed, and hatred of his father is deep inside him. He believes in the protection of the innocent, and that the darkness has no place in Thera.