Jondin Kern, Novice

Biography — Writing History

Written By: Robert
Created: July 2010

Curriculum Vitae

  • Gender: M
  • Hometown: Tear

Channeling Information

  • Elemental Strengths (strong to weak): Fire, Spirit, Water, Earth, Air

Physical Description

Jondin is an average man, some would say plain. He stands at an unremarkable 5ft8 and weighs little over 120lbs. His hair, the color of plain leather, hangs loose around his shoulders in long curly locks. He wears his beard pointed and waxed, like most Tairean Noble born, this too is plain and brown. Jondin Kern, by all accounts, is a very unassuming man. At least on the outside. Within burns the heart of an adventurer, that of a rakish young rogue in search of opportunities, looking to make his name in tales of heroism and daring-do! His eyes, a shimmering shade of silvery blue, are the only part of his body that ever shows the truth that lies within!

Biography

As a lad Jondin had studied intensively, becoming known in the Old Tongue before his 12th birthday, as was proper for the son of a High Lord of Tear. The truth behind his studies was only evident to his closest and most trusted friend and mentor, Galdor Trent, a scholar and one time Gleeman. Galdor knew that the boys studies were aided greatly by his thirst for one particular form of knowledge, the key to unlocking a world of possibilities and dreams that the boy craved. The key to becoming the most famous, most loved man in all the Ages. A childish dream but one that Jondin could not let die.

His earlier tutelage, of course, did not simply stem around the Old Tongue. Jondin became proficient in reading, writing, Arithmetic and Geometry. Also, unbeknown to his parents, Jondin learned the basics of how to Juggle, breathe fire, play some Harp and even the use of both sword and bow.

He had fled his fathers Estates, at the age of sixteen, in favor of the road not traveled by well to do young Lords of high society. Having lived all his life in the lap of luxury, life on the road was new to Jondin. The first leg of his trip was in truth but a short one, but to him, it seemed a life time. He took ship from Tear, headed toward Illian. There, amongst the crowd of other men, women, boys and girls, he swore the Hunters Oath. He never expected he would ever find the Horn, in truth he was not searching for it. No! What Jondin searched for was far bigger and far better, Fame!

Upon taking the Hunters Oath, he procured himself a horse and a fine blade and tied himself to a young group of Cairhienian and Andoran Nobles, who like he, had decided to forgo Noble life for that of an adventurers. The five Houses they called themselves  and everywhere they went they attempted to spread joy and alleviate suffering, through small things, such as acts of charity and the giving of aid freely, whether by helping to find a lost pet or simply helping with work around the Village. Truly they were all but children, Jondin himself at 16 being one of the oldest. But their intentions were pure and where they made camp, be it within a city, or by a lonesome Forest track, those they interacted with thought well of them.

It was another routine day in the lives of the Five when they made camp in a little town known as Four Meadows, on the edge of the Almoth planes. They had rode into town early and had taken rooms at The Boars Leap, a small but comfortable Inn at the center of the village when, without warning, a band of Dragonsworn rode down upon the village. Feeling a need to save the people from the clutches of the Villains, the Five quickly rode out to meet them in the streets, laying about them with reckless abandon in this, their first taste of combat.

They were no match for the brigands, but their willingness to defend people they didn’t even know gave the villagers heart and they mounted their own attack. Alas their combined efforts were not enough. Jondin lost his horse in the heat of battle as it turned in the Dragonsworns’ favor. Unhorsed and bleeding heavily he had panicked and attempted to flee, to little effect. He found himself cornered by ten bandits, all leveling spears and lances, ready to run him through. He stared around wildly, in the hopes that the Five still stood to aid him. Sadly none remained. he was the last Hunter left in his little group.

Fear took him and he crashed to his knees, from a mixture of blood loss and exhaustion. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes grew dim and an inferno of molten lave sprung into being within his stomach. A light in the darkness brought him back to reality. What was this new feeling that raged within him, a torrent of hate anger and… He could only describe it as vileness, coursed through his veins. He was so immersed within himself, the blinding light and the molten river of vileness that spread through him, that he failed to note one key factor; he was still alive.

Reality flowed back in and the feeling subsided, along with the bright light. He stared around himself confused. There were no brigands standing that he could see. In fact… He was alone in the streets of Four Meadows. He pushed himself hastily to his feet. Small piles of ash and blackened metal covered the streets. What had happened? Dazed and confused, he fled, leaving behind the scorched earth and the smell of burnt flesh. There was nothing for him there any more.

That strange occurrence, had it been isolated, would have been fine but… Everywhere he went he found himself haunted by mysterious acts amd crippled by the same sickess that had cost him consciousness that faithful day. What was happening to him? He did not know. He kept moving, kept traveling, isolating himself, hunting and foraging for what he could eat, playing or working for his supper as little as possible, whenever he could not find food. He lived this way for a full year, the strange occurrences haunting his every step, alcohol the only form of refuge he could find from reality and indeed the mystery illness.

It wasn’t till half way through his 17th year that everything fell into place!

He was seated at the front of a Tavern Common room, flute pressed to his lips, playing a soft, sad song halfheartedly, to an inattentive afternoon crowd, listening and cataloging the gossip he heard, as he always did. The tune picked up in tempo slightly as it shifted into an angry reprieve and… Fizzled out into nothingness. Two men seated near the front, talking in hushed voices, barely loud enough for Jondin to hear, looked up as he hopped down off the stage and strode towards their table. Their last words hung in the air like a sign from the Light, a sign for just Jondin

“… the Dragon has cleansed the Male half of the source they say!”

THAT was it. Channeling. All those miles ago in the little town of Four Meadows, those piles of ash… Jondin could channel. The realization hit him like a brick and he had collapsed into a chair, burying himself in a mug of wine. The thought was taking some getting used to. Jondin… Able to channel? He was still confused when, four days later, he pulled himself out of his cups and pushed himself out of the Tavern, blinking around in wonder.

So his path had been set, had it? He was destined to be either an Aes Sedai or an Asha’man. Neither choice was very attractive yet… Somewhere, in the pit of his stomach, the thought excited him. He was a few weeks ride from Caemlyn, where he had heard the Dragon was recruiting his Black coats, but… He had heard tales about the Black Coats, heard how most died or were killed and how few ever left the compound sane. He feared the prospects of insanity more than he feared death at this point. It was settled then, with very little debate. His fear of the Asha’man left only one true path. With not a second thought to the matter, he set off with a mind to see Tar Valon. Aes Sedai it would be then!

With a fresh sparkle in his eyes, a new spring in his step and FINALLY a way to make a name for himself, he set off for Tar Valon, there to enroll in the White Tower.

The Pattern has many twists and turns, on the way to fame and fortune but Jondin had never EVER even considered this!

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Writing History

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