Rurak Gistere

Handle: Blade
== Description ==
Age: 21
Place of Origin: The two Rivers
Physical description: Rurak stands a modest 6'2" 185 lbs and is powerfully built. Having taken up the longbow at a very young age and practicing with it all of his life, his shoulder and arm muscle are well muscled. He is tanned from many years working in the fields on his dad's tobacco farm. He has light, sandy brown hair and deep, penetrating blue eyes. Though handsome, his nature is that of a loner. He remains aloof from most people except those closest to him, and is rarely seen displaying emotion. A smile from his is considered a rare treat.
Rank: Private
Weapon of choice: Longbow
Secondary weapon: Quarterstaff
Division: Archer
== History ==
Rurak was born into the small, self-contained farming community of the two rivers. His mother died at birth and his father was left to raise him as an only child. The child grew up under the watchful care of his loving father, but was immediately shown to be a sober child. His penetrating blue eyes showed intelligence beyond his years. Rurak was seldom seen to display any emotion of any kind, so his father considered it a rare treat when he managed to elicit a smile for his child. As the boy got older he also began to grow very quickly.
By the time he was nine years old he was bigger than most other boys in the village. On his ninth birthday his father decided that his son was big enough and mature enough to start learning the longbow. That night as a present, His father presented him with a beautiful two rivers longbow and showed him how to use it. Though his first attempts were clumsy and well off the mark, Rurak continued to persevere. Though his father thought that his son might tire of the bow, he was quickly proved wrong. The days stretched into weeks, the weeks to months and years. Every night after the evening's work was done Rurak could be found out shooting arrows into bales of hay, or else stalking silently through the forest hunting wild deer. At the same time, Rurak's father began to teach him how to use a quarterstaff. Rurak enjoyed using this weapon as well, finding the extra side to the weapon a bonus when fighting, but found it to be less interesting than the bow and so spent less time on it.
As the years progressed Rurak became more and more restless. The life of a farmer bored him. He wanted to do something interesting. Fighting in the blight against trollocs, or seeing the world and Aes Sedai. There was so much more out there and he wanted to see it all. Suddenly a thought struck him. He could save up money now, and then when he was of age, he could leave on his own to seek his fortunes. To this end he began to enter into archery tournaments to win the prizes. His years spent shooting lent much to his skills, and more often than not he won, though his winnings were meager. He even began learning the quarterstaff better so as to enter tournaments with it, though he was never nearly as good with it.
As it came closer to his coming of age, Rurak took the money he had saved over the years and used most of it to purchase the materials to make the finest bow around. It was made of the finest wood and polished to a high sheen. The pull of it far exceeded that of any other in the community with over 100lbs of pull. Rurak's many years of practice with the bow and his time spent in the field had left his shoulders and arms heavily muscled. He was tall and handsome, and tanned from his years spent working in the fields.
On the night of his 18th birthday Rurak and his father went to the local inn to celebrate his coming of age with friends and family. It was one of those rare times when Rurak was so happy that he was smiling at everybody. As the party wore on and everyone had many drinks a man in the corner spoke up. "Hey, can't you people keep it down and let a man drink in peace." He had obviously had too much to drink. Rurak's father came to his defence "ell sir, my son has come of age as of today and we are celebrating. If you don't like this then too bad." At this a fight broke out and his father and the strange tumbled to the floor. They rolled back and forth across the floor punching at each other when suddenly there was a glint of steel. Rurak's father lay dead on the floor with his throat slashed.
Rurak quickly grabbed his quarterstaff leaning up against the wall and called the stranger outside to settle the score. The stranger grabbed a pair of swords and stalked out, weaving slightly from drink. It quickly became obvious that the stranger was a mercenary guard passing through with his employer and knew how to handle himself in a fight, however, he stood no chance against Rurak drunk. The stranger charged and Rurak quickly blocked the blow knocked the swords aside and crushed his throat. Then he grabbed the last of his money, bought a horse, and left his home forever. As he traveled he fought brigands along the way and quickly learned how to handle himself. He joined temporarily with many mercenary bands here and there and though he handled himself well, he never really fit in. He had developed a towering rage at life, kept barely under control and simmering behind a carefully cultured faÃ§ade of indifference. In order to keep it under control he pushed himself away from the comforts of friends and remained, if possible, even more aloof. His anger was tempered in the fires of battle and quickly became hardened steel. He traveled the length and breadth of the land, from the arynth ocean to the dragonwall, wandering and searching for a place in life. The one thing that stuck with him through his travels was the power of drink on a man, and he swore of drinking. Finally, tired of life and traveling, he returned to the two rivers and his farm and settled into the quiet life of farming. Over the months spent alone on the farm, Rurak finally came to grips with his father's death and the world at large and began to socialize more. However, the years spent alone had made him a little inept socially. He rarely talked, and when he did he usually said as little as possible. His anger had also not yet faded, and he often lashed out at those around him for their incompetence or stupidity.
One evening while working out in the fields alone, Rurak heard a familiar sound from what seemed eons ago. The cold rasp of steel sliding out of a scabbard. With his bow not around, Rurak quickly rolled and grabbed a hoe lying on the ground and whirled it around. The blade of the hoe bit into the neck of a goat headed monster wielding a huge scimitar like blade. "Trollocs!" He spat. "I haven't seen those in quite some time, and not this far south. Rurak quickly dashed toward the house and grabbed his trusty longbow from his campaign days and his solid iron quarterstaff he had acquired over the years. Slinging his quiver over his shoulder Rurak set off down the road to warn the villagers and help defend their homes and family.
Arriving on the edge of town, Rurak was immediately ordered to halt and identify himself. From where he stood Rurak could see that the city was surrounded by wooden stakes, and the ground was littered with the dead and dying of trollocs and fades. "Its Rurak and I've come to help." Quickly slipping between the stakes Rurak was apprised of the situation. We've been surrounded by hordes of trollocs and fades for days. "Help was sent for, but the situation looks bleak." Suddenly a shout rang out. "Here they come!" Quickly finding a place amongst the men he unlimbered his massive bow and waited for the order to fire. "At 400 paces men! Ready! Loose!" Rurak's bow thundered as he loosed his arrow and watched it pierce a fade's eye. "Fire at will!" He quickly reloaded time and again until his fingers split open and bled like they hadn't since his first days with a bow. The arrows didn't seem to stem the tide of trollocs as they piled up thick enough to blacken the ground. "Fall back!" Came the cry. Quickly slinging his bow over his shoulder, Rurak unstrapped his iron staff from his back and backed in between the houses. No matter how many he killed they seemed to keep coming. He shattered legs and crushed throats, but it didn't seem to do any good. He bled from wounds to both legs and his right arm. A cut from a trolloc's sword barely missed taking his eye. Suddenly it was all over. The trollocs lay dead and dying. Gasping for breath Rurak quickly looked up to see the reinforcements that had arrived just in time. "Thank the light" he growled.
After the battle was finished, Rurak found that he had nothing left to his name but his bow and staff. His childhood home had been destroyed by the trollocs. His animals had been butchered and his crops burned. With nothing left Rurak decided to re-enter his old life of soldiering. After all, it was what he was best at. And now that he had spent time away from it he found that he missed it. Hearing of the Band building a citadel nearby and their propensity to accept anybody no matter what their background, Rurak decided to enlist himself as a soldier in the Band of the Red Hand.
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