Otho Van Bio

[Temanin]

Name: Otho Van
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 9”
Eyes: Blue-Grey
Hair: Sand Blonde
Weight: 149 lbs

Description: Shoulder-length hair held back with a simple band, high cheekbones and a wide forehead, slightly slanted eyes which appear to pierce whatever they look upon: he was a man of extreme outer confidence. Poise and control were almost constantly in his employ. This superiority, as it does with everyone, affected his walk, mannerisms, and the like. Capable of being dashing, compassionate, stern, or influential at a moment’s notice, he was the archetype of composure.

Strengths: He is fiercely independent. He never likes to rely on anyone but himself. He is able to assume almost any visage of emotion at any given moment. He is intelligent and willing to take risks. He also despises attention from others.

Weaknesses: He is fiercely independent. He never likes to rely on anyone but himself. He is able to assume almost any visage of emotion at any given moment. He is intelligent and willing to take risks. He also despises attention from others.

** That’s right. Strengths and weaknesses are the same. This is true for all of us, and so it shall be with my character, as well. That, and I’m lazy.


Background:

The year is 978NE, and the snows of the northern lands run red with the blood of men of all nationalities. The Aiel, crossing the Spine of the World for the first time in generations, had launched an all-out assault on Cairhien, but finally it seems to be drawing to a close. The Battle of the Shining Walls has guaranteed the defeat of the Aiel, as they retreat back to the Three-Fold Land, and victory is in the hands of the wetlanders, as far as the wetlanders were concerned. And so, slowly, troops returned to their cabins and manors, their fields and workshops, their boats and merchant trains. Families rejoiced in the return of loved ones, and in many a city, the triumphant sounds of victory song and cheer can be heard for miles abroad.

But in Cairhien itself…so too could the mourning be heard, just as strongly: The weeping and wailing of thousands of widowed wives, of mothers who would never see their children again, of children who would never again know the touch or voice of their father. And so was the case for the Van family.

The home had been in family possession for over four generations. It was not large enough to be called a manor, but it did have a small field to harvest, a few hired farmhands, a handful of servants, cooks, accountants, and the like, as well as holding the entire Van family, three generations in total. Situated just to the north of Cairhien proper, the Van family had prospered in a small way due to the family’s trade connections with Tar Valon and the eastern Borderlands. Never being able to truly compete with the larger merchant groups and families, the Van family had long since removed itself from politics, deciding to take a path of apathy to the world around them. Their trade connections would benefit the family. That was all that mattered. Self-sufficiency was the Van family’s main concern.

Mainly transporting the freight of smaller goods-producing manors in the area too small to have the ability to hire full-fledged merchant trains, the family had made a fair profit from their exploits. There was no underhandedness to their dealings, which sometimes brought them business from larger manors and workshops wishing to transport items discreetly, and pleased those who used their services on a daily basis. The other half of the family’s merchant freight success came in their contacts in other cities. The Van family was loosely related to the Lanham family, a prominent supplier of goods in Tar Valon. Though the family ties weren’t strong, it was enough to guarantee continual work in Tar Valon. And so it was that the Lanham family had ties in the Borderlands, providing the Vans with even more shipment connections.

***

Even to Tolliver Van, the leader of the household, the variable spider web of connections and interconnections were baffling at times. But it was his duty to maintain those connections, as well as see to the day to day dealings of the home.

Tolliver was not a large man, but when he wanted to make himself known, he easily portrayed an air of control. And in the small meeting room on the first floor, in the fall of 976NE, he was doing just that. In the room at the time were Tolliver’s three brothers, all younger, Tolliver’s Father and uncle, who both resided on the estate, and three of his nephews old enough to make the shipment runs. There were no secrets in the Van home. Once you came of age, no meeting or file was off-limits.

“Grev waits for us in Tar Valon. He said that the opportunity for a large profit was possible, if we were to just arrive there before the coming winter. We would be one of the few rolling into the city for months, and by the heart of winter, all goods, including ours, will be in high demand.”

“Aye, but Tar Valon is the center of the civilized world,” said one of Tolliver’s brothers, Rollin. “How could ten wagons, not even stuffed mind you, possible make an impact on the market there? And besides, we would be caught in Tar Valon all winter!”

“If nothing else, we well do just as well as we always have. If Grev’s information is wrong, then there is no harm done. We make the normal profit and we ride home. But Grev has never steered us wrong before. Always he has been correct in his reading of the market. And as for a winter stay, we could easily sell the wagons and travel back when the dealings were done. If nothing else, the money made from their selling could go into the purchase of more in the spring.”

“Grev Lanham is a dependable man, says I.” Tolliver’s father, Hector, didn’t usually agree with him on matters of trade, so Tolliver was anxious to see what his take on the situation was. “His father was a good man, as well.” He stopped for a moment and stroked his beard. Though all in the room were in a hurry, none said anything to the former head of the estate. He was wise, and had been shipping cargo for longer than Tolliver had been alive. The small council always had time to listen to Hector. “Tolliver is right. It would be a great benefit to the family if we can make a profit anywhere near what Grev projects.” He paused and cleared his throat. “With the small treasure gathered in Tar Valon, the winter and spring woes would be taken care of, even if it would mean a slightly extended time away from home.”

Hector’s brother, Ward, then spoke up. “Yes. Every winter and spring we must crimp on the resources to make it to the shipping summer. With this, though…some much-needed relaxation could perhaps come to this place.” Ward had never been in charge of the estate, and knew nothing other than the mundane dealings of merchants in cities, the procedures for moving freight, and the like. Sometimes he resented Hector for his position as house head, keeping Ward ever from the job. They often argued about even the simplest thing. For Ward and Hector to agree, it must truly have been a boost to the family. And with such a show, none of the other brothers dared add any objection.

Within the week, the wagons were loaded, the horses hitched, and Tolliver, his brothers, and their sons all said their farewells. The remainder of the household had come out to wish the group well, including Otho, Tolliver’s seven-year-old son. Otho idealized his father even at this young age, longing for nothing more than to be just like him. Unable to hold himself any longer, Otho burst forth from the group and leapt into his father’s arms. “I’ll be back soon, boy. Don’t you worry.” Carefully sitting him on the ground, Tolliver turned and mounted his horse. Sobbing quietly to himself, Otho returned to his mother’s side as his father turned and started down the road. The small caravan followed and soon, they were nothing more than a spec of dust on the horizon. Tolliver had estimated that within three months they would be able to return to the estate. Tolliver had not figured on the Aiel.

[Temanin]

***

The winter of 976NE was exceptionally harsh, with the snows pilling high on the roads. The members of the family still at the estate soon gave up hope that the caravan would be able to return before spring, and so they settled into the routine of day to day business without the men. Otho was terribly depressed, but he was able to busy himself by playing in the snow, picking on his sister and her friends, and other such activities small boys partake in during the winter months.

Roughly three weeks after Tolliver and the others had departed; a tall, withered man wearing a damp, dark blue cloak came galloping into the estate. He was utterly exhausted, and before he could say a word, he fell from the back of his horse into the snow, unconscious. Otho’s mother and a few of the other women wrapped him in blankets and moved him next to the fire which was blazing in the house. He soon awoke, and carried with him dire news. The Aiel had crossed the Spine of the World, and were marching on Cairhien. The Van estate rested only a day or so away from the city, and the man had charged himself with warning all the nearby villages and estates. As he prepared to ride off to the next village, he told them they must leave immediately, if they were to survive.

The house was in a panic, but Marianne Van, Otho’s mother, took charge, and within three days had developed a plan for the family. Loading as much as they could onto the two remaining wagons, the estate was abandoned and the family headed south and west toward the River Alguenya. Once there, they boarded a boat, again bringing with them as much as they could, and headed south down the river.

By the time the group reached Maerone, news of the invasion had spread everywhere and it seemed as if Cairhien was emptying itself into all other neighboring lands. Because of the great amount of people on the move, Marianne was not able to find housing for her family in the small Cairhienin town and so they crossed the river to Aringill, a much larger Andoran city. Marianne, Otho, and the rest felt very much like outsiders, though in reality they were only a day from the border of their home nation.

A few weeks later, they heard the news of Tar Valon: the gates of the city were closed in preparation for siege. Nothing was coming into or out of the great city. The family, Otho especially, hoped beyond hope that all would be well for their loved ones. And so it was that for the next two years Otho Van lived in the city of Aringill, every day spent in fear; and all the while never hearing from Tolliver or the others.

The Battle of the Shining Wall came and went, and by winter of 978NE, the Aiel were retreating back to the Waste. Peace, it seemed, had finally come. Otho was now nine years old, and was in charge of housekeeping while the women worked at the market in the center of Aringill. Through selling most of their possessions and making some risky purchases, Marianne and the other Vans has been able to produce enough income to sustain the family through the selling of cloaks, shirts, and novelty items, which most people had purchased simply to keep their minds from the woes of war. But now with the war over, the family was anxious to return to their estate, longing to once again be home. And so, for the second time in two years, the family gathered everything they owned and moved. They headed towards the docks, and eventually were able to garner passage up the river.

In short time, they arrived once more at their home. Rather, they arrived to the place which had once been their home. The home was completely gone, obviously destroyed within the first few weeks of the war. Only two large roofing beams still remained, charred and half-buried. While most of the family had maintained hope, Marianne possessed the foresight to bring shelter if need be. Stoically, the family assembled the tents, and talked quietly of what they would do next. That night, as the family settled in to sleep, Otho was found missing. Marianne and a few others searched for him for an hour before finding him near a pond that had once been his favorite hiding spot. He stood stark still, not even his breathing perceptible. There, on the bank of the pond was a man, half submerged and decayed. Though over half of the man had fallen to pieces, his tan clothing and veil were still perceptible. Just as his mother was about to speak, Otho finally stepped forward and pulled something from the body. He slowly turned around, and then looked to his mother. In his hand was a spear, and in his eye was a faint glow of hatred. He marched out from the pond and back to the tents, saying not a word to anyone. And with him he kept the spear, as well.

For three days the family camped there where their home once stood, searching the area for anything they could salvage of their past. As the sun started its descent, a lone figure appeared on the horizon riding a horse, eerily reminiscent of the man who had warned the family to flee. He grew closer to the campground, and soon he was recognized as Rollin, Tolliver’s youngest brother. The family was overjoyed, as soon the fires were burning high, cooking a feast for his return. But just as the man on that fateful winter day, so too did Rollin come bearing ill tidings.

The caravan had safely arrived in Tar Valon by the outbreak of the war, and had successfully found shelter and the like. When the gates of the city were closed, they actually experienced a boom in sales, as their good were now in short supply. But sadly, Ward passed away not two weeks after, succumbing to the cold weather and old age. It was not long after the conscription of all able-bodied men began. Tolliver, Rollin, and all the other brothers were swept up, handed weapons and marched from the city. Somehow, they managed to both stay together and stay alive through the entire war, until at last the Aiel came to Tar Valon. That long winter night found all the brothers and nephews of the Van family dead, save Rollin himself. When he arrived back within the city, Hector was found dead from exposure. Rollin had nothing left, so he simply garnered a horse and heading home once more.

The news that Tolliver had been killed rocked Otho to the core, and that glow within his eye was no longer quite as faint. He found himself asking his uncle the particulars of his father’s demise. During that last battle, Tolliver had taken two arrows, one in the left shoulder and one in the right side of his chest, slipping between ribs and punching into his lung. An Aes Sedai had happened by at the time, and Rollin pleaded with her to do something. Rollin said she simply glanced at Tolliver, lifted her head, said he would die soon, and continued on. Tolliver managed to survive for another ten minutes before his lung filled with blood and he drowned. “Those bloody Aiel are nothing more than animals, Otho. And those Aes Sedai witches, too. Be wary of them, for they lead to nothing but pain and death.” Otho took this small lesson to heart.

There was no reason for them to stay where they were, and Rollin informed them that the north was ravaged just as badly, so the Van family solemnly made their way back to Aringill. Once there, they were able to barter for a small plot of land, on which the family settled and began farming while they continued doing what they had done during the war. And so it was that for the next eight years they resided outside of the city as a small farming family. Otho soon began working the fields to help with the family income, and by the time he was seventeen he had become quite muscular from all the intensive work. And as Otho grew, so too did his anger at the world, and his mind began lying blame at the feet of many. The Aes Sedai, channelers of the One Power, played the part of the evil witches, conniving and manipulating the entire world into their web of destruction. Only the Dark One could give such unholy power, he decided, thus making all Aes Sedai darkfriends. And the Aiel he labeled little better than Trollocs from the old stories, monsters bent on nothing but death and chaos. Just like the Shadowspawn from the ancient tales had the Aiel poured over the Spine of the World, and just as quickly retreated, after destroying everything he had ever known. And oddly enough, he also grew to despise the people of Cairhien, who had not been strong enough to even slow the Aiel monsters.

At the same time, the young boy had become fascinated by the spear and its overbearing effectiveness against even the most finely crafted armor. Because of this, he had often accompanied his uncle on hunts and it wasn’t long before he felt first-hand the life of a helpless creature fade at the end of his spear shaft. He had spilt his first blood, and instead of being terrified, he was overjoyed, and longed to kill once again. As Otho and his uncle would hunt, Rollin would show him how to properly use the spear in combat, as well, just as he had learned during the Aiel War. The spear was an incredibly versatile weapon, Otho came to find. The spear head could obviously thrust and pierce most things, but it could also be used to slash and cut if swung properly. Also, in close combat, the spear could double as a quarterstaff, used to cudgel enemies to the ground. Whenever he wasn’t working, Otho could usually be found practicing with the hunting spears.

[Temanin]

By the winter of 986NE, Otho had grown restless without an outlet for his anger. So one day, he decided his time on the farm had come to an end. He and Rollin were to take a load of hay into the city of Aringill that day, and he planned to use it to his advantage. The night before he had silently packed most of his clothes, a few coins, and a hunting spear into the hay, as well as the short spear he had taken from the dead Aiel so long ago. As they entered the city, Rollin went off to find an inn to stay for the day while Otho guarded the wagon. Otho didn’t wish any harm upon his family, so he waited patiently until he saw his uncle in the crowd, coming his way. He then quickly jumped down, retrieved his things from the hay, and disappeared down a nearby alley. He never looked back.

Otho knew that his uncle would be looking for him, so he quickly made his way to the farthest end of the city. Within two days, he was able to both avoid his uncle and, thanks to good fortune and a poor winter, get a job as a merchant guard. The cold winter air had gotten to one of the caravan’s guards one night, and they were desperate, as they were only passing through Aringill. It wasn’t a large caravan, but the man leading it, a short elderly fellow, said he felt much safer with a full guard crew. So the next day, Otho and the rest headed out in the direction of Caemlyn.

For over a year Otho traveled with the small trading caravan, going from Caemlyn to Lugard, back to Caemlyn, then from there to Far Madding, and finally arriving in Illian. The caravan rarely stopped in one city for long, only pausing long enough to make a sale and pick up new cargo. Otho’s job had been thus far very simple, having only three or four run-ins with bandits. His spear, the old hunting tool taken from home, was still serving him well, though its shaft was growing weak from overuse. So, on the first day of their visit, he went out into the city and purchased a new spear, geared more towards fighting rather than hunting. Its balance was almost perfect, the spearhead long enough to do severe damage to any opponent. The Aiel spear, however, was still in pristine condition, as he cared for it every day. Somehow it had managed to avoid destruction from nature during its stay at the pond, and he didn’t plan to let it fall apart while in his care.

The caravan was in Illian for over a week, but just as Otho began to settle into the place, the caravan once again moved out in the direction of Ebou Dar. When they were roughly three days from Ebou Dar, the old caravan leader took sick, and by the time they arrived, he was in the final stage of life. The caravan quickly settled into an inn and a few of the men ran out into the city to find someone who could help. Otho simply stood by the old man, watching callously as he struggled to live. He did not wish the man any harm, but he understood death, and he knew that there was little he could do to help. As night began to set in, one man returned with a petite woman, face smooth and seemingly ageless. She ordered everyone out of the way, then walked up to the old man and placed her hands upon his chest. It was then that Otho realized what she was: Aes Sedai. The hatred swelled and threatened to boil over within him. Suddenly the old man jerked three times, and then slumped back, unconscious. She then looked at them and simply said “he will die soon.” She then turned and started to leave. Memories flashed of what his uncle had told him, and he grabbed his spear and whirled around, placing the point directly in her path. “You lie, witch,” he said in a cold, crisp voice laced with irrational hatred. “He had but a fever. You have brought him to death’s door. And now you will let him die, just as you did my father…” His last words trailed off as he continued to glare at the Aes Sedai.

With a flick of her wrist, Otho’s spear went hurling from his hands and landed on the other side of the room, and the Sister calmly returned his stare. “The One Power can not stop old age and death. It is simply his time.” She then turned and left.

Otho, somewhat stunned, ran to the door and screamed after the Aes Sedai, “You’ll pay, witch! You’ll pay for everything you’ve done! May the Shadow take you!” His fellow guards grabbed him and pulled him back inside, trying to calm him. But Otho could not be calmed. Finally he had a target for his anger, someone he could blame all his troubles on. This Aes Sedai was the reason the old man would die. This Aes Sedai was the reason the Aiel stormed through his homeland, destroying everything. This Aes Sedai was the reason his father had been killed. Her evil must be atoned for! Her dark ways must be put to an end; she must be brought to justice! In Otho’s mind, the world was just about to have one less darkfriend. Striding over, he grabbed his spear and told the others he was going for a walk. They were not unaccustomed to death and the desire to fight, and they saw in Otho’s eyes his bloodlust. Because of this, they forced him to leave his new spear there, but allowed him to walk to cool himself down. Reluctantly Otho agreed. The other guards, however, did not notice the Aiel spear strapped under his coat as he departed.

He wandered aimlessly for a time down the road he had seen the Aes Sedai take, before he finally caught up to her. She was walking confidently down street as though she had nothing to fear. Otho quietly pulled the spear from his back and approached her, not saying a word. Luck was with him that night, for she did not hear him until it was too late. Pulling the spear back, he them stabbed it forward, the iron tip sliding effortlessly through her dress and then he flesh as blood began to seep out. Without hesitation, she fell to the ground. He rolled her over and could see the light fading from her eyes, a stark look of terror upon that ageless face. “And now you pay, witch. For the good of the Light.” As the last bit of life left her, he reached down, plucked the Great Serpent ring from her finger, and dropped it into his pocket.

It was only then that he realized he was standing in the middle of the road. Thankfully it was empty, but he didn’t know for how long that would be the case. Quickly ducking into the nearest alley, he began meandering his way back to the inn. Just as he thought he was safe, a large man stepped out in from of him. Otho stumbled back slightly, but readjusted his footing and held his short spear at the ready. For a moment neither moved, but then the mystery man spoke. “You spear still has Aes Sedai blood on it, child. It would not be a good idea to return to your inn with that.” Otho glanced quickly at the spearhead, but still did not move. And so the man continued. “I know why you killed her. You killed her because you knew that it was the right thing to do. The White Tower is nothing more than a cult of the Dark. You are a Light-gifted young man, to have been able to slay an Aes Sedai. That, or incredibly lucky.” A small smirk appeared upon his shadowed face. “But I know a place where you can go and be praised for what you have done, not hunted like you undoubtedly will be here. It is a place where you can go and learn how to further the cause of the Light. Tell me, son, have you ever been to Amador? We Children of the Light would be honored to have you among our ranks. Come with me.”

It did not take much convincing for Otho to follow the mysterious man. He came to find his name was Tanas Wen and he was an officer of the Children of the Light. Otho spent the night with Tanas, and by the next morning he was willing to join their ranks. Tanas was such an eloquent speaker, he was able to say everything Otho needed to hear, including the fact that further revenge could be his, if only he took on the mantle of the Children. By noon Otho had gathered his things from the inn, in which the old man had died during the night, mounted his horse and was on the way to Amador in Amadica.

Months later, the cleansing rituals were completed, the training was over, and Otho was taking the vows within the Fortress of the Light, among many others who had seen the light, just as he had. On his twenty-first birthday, the snow white cloak emblazoned with the golden sunburst was placed upon his shoulders for the first time. And so he began working his way around the known world, and up the ranks, spreading the Light of the Creator. And every once in a while, another Great Serpent ring was added to his collection.

[Temanin]

I'm goint to approve this thing myself if someone doesn't say something soon. ^^

[Tony]

I've been waiting for Bob or Victor to do it. But if you must . . .

[Temanin]

^^ Why thank ya. I plan for this fellow to be a loner: i.e. not really RP with anyone for now. Just a heads up.

[Tony]

All right. I will be watching his progress with much interest.

I'll try and continue the thread I am in and speed things up. I just need some motivation and a good, swift kick in the arse.

[Temanin]

*good, swift kick in Tony's arse*

*salute*

Godspeed.

[Tony]

I'll try and work on it today. But I borrowed San Andreas from Victor. That is one fun game, I'll tell you that.

[Temanin]

Oh no...I've played that game, and you're never going to come back. T_T

Oh well. All I know is that Xolani will be back in the next couple of days, and I need to get Temanin out of Tar Valon!

Oh, and that's an extremely, uber-awesome Approved image there!! Wow, that's so cool I can't even stand to look at it for more than a moment, as I am overwhelmed by its greatness!!

[Tony]

I better get you out of the Tower soon because on July 8th I'll be leaving to my grandmothers. I'll be at her house for a month.

O.o

I know, it's crazy.