Ihvaron Mosevni

Ihvaron Mosevni
Handle: Ihvaron
Character Name: Ihvaron Mosevni
Email address: freebird_56@hotmail.com
Division: Freelanders
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Place of Birth/Raising: Arafel
Physical Description:
5' 8"; 210 lbs; pale skin; large brown eyes; black hair worn in the Arafellin style of two long braids with a silver bell tied to the end of each, the braids hang to about midway down his back; scars decorate his upper body but none stand out among them to occasion more comment then the collection as a whole; a boyishly handsome face, although his playful smile has disappeared for the most part since he lost his sister and a darkness has entered his eyes; typical dress: boots and breeches of dark brown, shirt of white, the most remarkable pieces were both gifts, his coat, black with embroidery from cuffs to elbows, red roses on one sleeve, white on the other, and his swords, a pair of slightly curving, single-edged blades with similar rosework on the scabbards, worn crossing the length of his back with one hilt standing over each shoulder.
Character History:
Ihvaron Mosevni was born the second of two children in a small farming village in the east of Arafel, slightly more then a two day ride from the Mora River on the Arafel/Shienar border. The son of Tervayl Mosevni and his wife Marayin, it is Ihvaron's belief that he and Remerie, his sister who was three years his elder, began working on the farm from the day they could walk. While this is not the case, it is not that far from the truth either. The men of the family, according to Marayin, have been soldiers and guardians of the blightborder since before Arafel was a nation, although only Tervayl and his father, Aederol ever rose to positions of authority, minor as it may have been, within the Arafellin army.
On his thirteenth nameday, Tervayl gave Ihvaron his first swords, and his life and training truly began. Every day from that point forward his father, or grandfather if Tervayl was off guarding the blightborder, would train Ihvaron in unarmed combat, military tactics, blight survival, the traditional sword forms, and the Arafellin dual blade style. Not much more then a year after that, Tervayl was killed on a foray into the blight. When one of the few survivors of the party brought the news, Marayin and Remerie cried for days. Aederol, the veteran soldier remained stonefaced in his efforts to comfort them and Ihvaron did his best to imitate him, but found himself crying quite often as well, but never where the women could see. It was at this time that Ihvaron began to grow more and more protective of his sister, becoming as much a bodyguard as a brother. It was also at this time that Remerie took up a pair of Tervayl's old swords and began joining Ihvaron in his training sessions with Aederol.
On his sixteenth nameday, Ihvaron was given the possession he holds most dear, the Mosevni family swords, a sign to this family of soldiers equal to those naming someone the head of a noble house. Passed down from father to strongest son at the time of the formers retirement from active military service, they were returned with the news of Tervayl's death, and reverted back to Aederol until he deemed Ihvaron worthy of them. While the blades themselves have been replaced time and again over the generations and the hilts and scabbards restored, they still hold the same basic appearance as they did when they were first wielded in battle. The wooden hilts are tightly wrapped in black leather and red cord on one, white on the other. This is done so expertly, that only close examination or holding them will make them appear anything but one piece. I can even begin to feel as one piece for one who has held it enough. The guards are circular pieces of gold worked with roses ringing the blades. The scabbards are black and worked with roses of a color to match the cord on the hilt for a quarter of their length.
Within a week of being presented with the family swords by his grandfather, Ihvaron set off for Shol Arbela to enlist in the Arafellin army. Very reluctantly, Ihvaron agreed to allow Remerie to accompany him. Remerie has been training at Ihvaron's side since shortly after their father died, and while she cannot equal him, she is no slouch with a blade in her hand, although she has had trouble with the Arafellin style, which is why she only carried one sword on the journey. Shortly after arriving in Shol Arbela where both Ihvaron and Remerie enlisted in the army, Remerie began to fall for a young man by the name of Tialyn, who was only slightly older then Ihvaron and had enlisted less then a month earlier.
It came that Tialyn decided he would make a trip into the blight to prove himself a greater warrior then any other in the Borderlands, and Remerie, blinded by love, got it into her head that she would accompany him. Ihvaron did his very best to dissuade her and finally, or so he thought, convinced her to at least sleep on it. He gave her his word that if, in the morning, she was still set on doing this, he would go with them. She agreed, but apparently neither she nor Tialyn could make themselves wait that long. Ihvaron woke to find them both gone and knowing exactly where they had disappeared to, he immediately set off after them.
He caught up with them no more then a few miles short of the blightborder, Tialyn dead and Remerie screaming in fear and agony, the victim of a Myrddraal's ongoing machinations. Dozens of Trollocs filled the camp, feeding on previous victims and watching the Myrddraal play. Ihvaron's jaws hurt from clamping them shut so hard to keep himself from screaming in rage. Knowing full well he wouldn't stand a chance against all those shadowspawn, Ihvaron watched them as he unsheathed his blades, trying to plot every possible course into the camp and out with Remerie.
The fighting didn't last very long. Ihvaron remembers killing at least a few Trollocs, the first taken from behind. He remembers Remerie crying, he remembers screaming her name, and lastly he remembers hearing, before everything went black, a dry, raspy voice commanding he be kept alive, for the time being.
When Ihvaron regained consciousness, his hands are bound behind him and he is hanging by his ankles above the boiling hot water of a Trolloc cook pot, his braids dangling just above the surface. He can see his swords on the ground and hear his sister's screams. When he lays eyes on Remerie and the Myrddraal his eyes fill with tears and he screams her name. The sight is indescribable in it's sickness, and he has to wrench himself up, arching his back so he does suffocate himself with his own vomit. He doesn't know how long her tortures and screams fill his ears, but he knows his stomach is empty long before it's over and he distinctly remembers being made to meet the Myrddraal's eyeless gaze before Remerie's throat is slit. Ihvaron knows it is his turn now, but he has a feeling this was his torture and death will come for him soon.
His saving grace arrives first however, in the form of a large, black-cloaked swordsman. The man is walking death, dancing from form to form and felling Trolloc after Trolloc. Ihvaron's would be savior takes a beating to be sure, but he never falters, he never slows in his work and before long there are more beastly bodies littering the ground then stand upon it. Those that do still stand however are closing quickly on the helpless Ihvaron and the mysterious swordsman. The swordsman swings Ihvaron clear of the cook pot and slices the rope holding his feet, sending him flying hard to the ground. The last thing Ihvaron sees before blacking out is the mysterious swordsman clashing with the Myrddraal.
When Ihvaron next wakes he is unclothed beneath bandages and the sheets of a bed he doesn't know, in a room he doesn't know, in a building he only recognizes by the face of the woman smiling down at him from the edge of the bed. He met Kerinin at an inn called The Tangled Roses the night before he came upon the Trolloc camp. She spent a lot of time with him that night, listening to him talk about his childhood, and Remerie, filling him with booze and dancing with him. He's vaguely certain she tucked him in that night as well. Ihvaron spends the next week in that bed, with Kerinin and various other waitresses from The Tangled Roses fawning over him, taking care of him, and trying to keep a smile on his face, but that is no easy task as every time he closes his eyes he can see Remerie and the Myrddraal, he can hear her screams. In that week, Ihvaron come to the decision that will set the course for the next chapter in his life. He decides that he is bound by honor to avenge the torture and murder of his sister and to repay the debt he owes to the man who saved his life. It comes to him that the best place to start looking for a man with the skill his savior possessed, and the best place to get the training he needs to reach that level of skill himself in order to avenge his sister, is Tar Valon, training under the watchful eyes of Warders. He lets the waitresses of The Tangled Roses know of his decision, and before he leaves they present him with a gift, after he proves to them that he is strong enough to take his swords away from them. The gift is a coat finer then any he has ever owned. It is black with embroidery from cuffs to elbows, tangled red roses on one sleeve and white on the other. Kerinin claims they all chipped in and had it made especially for him, taking his measurement for the tailor while he slept. He smiles wider then he has since he woke up there and thanks each of them in turn, hugging them and kissing their cheeks. With that, he says his goodbyes and begins his journey to Tar Valon.
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