Magus of the Ivory Order of the Sun
Senior Mage of Elysia
A young man standing six feet tall, with a lean muscluar build one might attribute to someone who runs long distances without tiring. Piercing blue eyes beneath trimmed black brows. Black hair, slightly longer than shoulder length and an immaculately trimmed mustache and beard.
When casually attired one might catch a glimpse of the symbol of Dra'nar tattooed over his heart, or perhaps the symbol of Andrinor on either forearm. Never out of sight is Dra'nars holy symbol about his neck.
Dressed most often in reds and golds with fabrics suited to the occasion, in action he will either be in his suit of plate armor or wearing a shirt of near wieghtless chainmail. Belted at his waist is a Bastard sword named Orphan's Edge on one side and a fine dagger on the other.
Saman is earnest, not given to guile, gregarious by nature and tries to keep an open-minded outlook on life.
Saman was born and raised in the city of Bullwark, one of the Seven cites. His father William tane, was an instructor at the Confederated School of War located there where he instructed in the use of magic to enhance ones capabilities. Willaim Tane was what many have come to refer to as a "Steelcaster". Religion was not a major influence in Saman's early life at this time, some reverence was given to Gorethar by his father but nothing very significant, Samans theology wasnt formed until the plague came through town.
The plague, Saman never learned if it was called anything other than "the plague", came to roost throughout Negaria around the time Saman turned nine years old, that experience was outlined in Saman's journal.
It was a clear and wonderful day I remember, bright blue sky, bereft of any clouds. Myself and a few other boys playing as boys often do in Bullwark, playing at war, our crude wooden swords banging at each other. Grandiose death scenes, overplayed as only boys who dont know better play.
Returning home to see the cleric of Dra'nar in front of our tiny home outside the School of War, where my father was instructor. The sun setting just behind it gave it an eerie orange glow. The cleric, whose name I should remember but cannot, saw my approach and slowly came to me, hand held out palm forward to stop me....meeting me some twenty or so feet from the door, placeing a firm hand on my shoulder...
"you cannot enter young Saman...."
he said quietly as he furtively looked around to see if others were near....
"Your parents and sister have taken ill, you will come stay with me for awhile..."
I swallowed, it must have been audible for he looked directly in my eyes. I didnt recognise it then but in my minds eye recollection I now see deep pity and sorrow were there. Even though he gave the assurances that adults often give to young children to assuage their fears he knew..
He knew that the illness they had taken was in fact the plague that had come up from the south and that there was little that could be done.
"Can I see them?" I squeaked
"Not just now lad, maybe in the morning"
For three days our conversations started or ended like that...
It was a short walk to the temple and orphanage of Dra'nar one of the more sizeable temples in Bullwark. I was given a small room off the priests quarters, a comfortable pallate to rest upon, a tiny desk and an armoire..
A fog of blurred visions and words imppossible to recall, the remainder being a disjointed tumble of memories.....father on the training field.....mother serving dinner....a funeral with many people I didnt know....little Katia's smile....a bunk in the orphanage....a cemetary plot with three names...my ninth birth celebration unobserved.
Publicly Known Recent History
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