Legends of Belariath

Fariday

The Torian named Fariday was born to a small village couple in the borderlands of the empire, and lived comfortably with his parents into his toddler years. However, when he was three, illness took his mother, and his father comitted suicide in grief a month later. Fariday's older brother, Christophe, took care of them with his earnings as a stablehand.

Fariday eventually dabbled in metalworking after an occurance he won't speak of happened near the village smithy, and his brother became a soldier for their clan. He dealt with the ridicule of his wing color rather well, but as with most of his position, became an outcast among his people; few would even acknowledge his presence, and fewer talked to him willingly.

Christophe was supportive, but when a group of teenaged Torian attacked Fariday at the age of eleven, his eyes were damaged almost irreparably, the pupils vanishing and irises becoming pure white. He was blinded for months, but miraculously regained vision over time. His eyes maintained their ghostly appearance, however, adding to his features of omen among the people of his village.

Still, life was mostly normal for him again, though two local lords had begun feuding with each other. The conflict raged for years, the small village keeping to itself as much as it could. Christophe became a soldier of renown, a local hero, and even Fariday earned some manner of respect throughout the village for his amiable and helpful nature.

The peace did not last, as the two warring lords brought their armies afield, with Fariday's village in between. He was fourteen during the raze of his home, and Christophe died buying Fariday time to escape. It was a full week before he returned to the ashes of the village. Taking the only remaining artifact he found from his brother's corpse, a small necklace, he turned and walked away.

Cursing his inability to do anything for his village or his brother, Fariday became a mercenary, training himself in swordplay and the arcane, hiring himself out to anyone who could pay him to continue training. His inherent wanderlust never vanished, and he fed it voraciously in his travels.

Eventually, his path led him to Nanthalion, a city of strength, of ambition, of fortune for the hard-working. And he has never once looked back.

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