Ishael Marian Adhmoer

[newspike]

Ishael Marian Adhmoer

Ishael would be described as tall yet slender man, looking older than he actually is. He does not seem to build much muscle mass as he has new use for it. His head is shaven, as if he was losing his hair and decided to remove it completely, yet occasionally facial hair forms around his lips. Some would think he was ill, as he tends to have a gaunt face with very prominent cheek bones, pale skin and tired looking eyes as well as occasionally coughing into a handkerchief. Whether he is or not is up for speculation as he never answers on the subject. He hobbles along with a stiff walking stick pressed to his left leg from an old wounded suffered by a Warder during a failed assassination years ago but since has healed considerably, he does not need the stick as much as he tends to let on. When he sets his stick aside he is nimble and ferocious in the arts of murder. While he has no real skill in actual combat he has been known for finding ways to fade his appearance into the scenery and striking foes with a swift cut to the throat before they are even aware what has happened. Born in the city of Falme, he has contacts well within the Seanchan occupation that he has yet to unveil. For a matter of fact a man with his fingers in so many pies has contacts throughout the Westlands. His tactical knowledge and knowledge of deceit and sabotage are certainly something to be feared rather than his skill in arms.

Unknown to any but he, his allegiance does not always lay where one would expect them to….

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So it had been decided, the new Lord Captain of the Andoran Legion would be Valicktor Guin. The boy had potential though a little rough around the edges. Eamon Valda did not take kindly to him due to his connection to that “traitor” Thorn Volken”. That did not matter, that man would have preferred a light blinded veteran like Braska Hextor but he was no longer a man of the leaving. The shaven headed man sat in his large chair in his quarters at Amdor. His belongings were being packed swiftly by a trusted individual as he relaxed watching the blaze in the fire place and sipping a hot cup of tea.
‘I should have expected it would have needed by intervention. The boy is a foolish one but with a knack for leadership, respect from his men and a virtue to the light. In other words, he is perfect.’ Ishael took a long sip from his mug as he glanced around his room to make sure everything was being collected and packed smoothly without any taking the time to read any of his scrolls. While the man had been personally assigned to him for years as a servant he still did made sure that his belongings were undisturbed apart from being packed. The man who served him and long learnt that Ishael had many dirty jobs to do; many had been killed or sent to death under his knife or pen. That was simply the world he lived in.

The slender mans mind slipped back to the events that had just occurred. The death of Thorn Volken was inevitable. His loyalties were too regularly questioned. By throwing himself in with Guin and defending him in front of the Annoited had also put him on Lord Captain Valdas’ suspect list. It did not worry him though, his words of wisdom were known by those on the Annoited, while he may not have been of a high officer rank he was well known throughout Amador as a man who worked on the side of the Children of the Light rather than directly in the army. When it came to the missions he had to perform, authority was not his concern, only completing the job by whatever means. Eamon Valda had always be weary of him, surprisingly it was Galad who had taken his words to heart and seemed to find the wisdom in them above others. While he outwardly had an appearance of a sick man it did not change the fact he was well versed in the profession he had taken up. They knew this. He would soon make his way to Andor, forfeiting the comforts of his home in Amador. It was a price he was willing to pay at this time. If Andor was to come under his heel he would need Lord Captain Guin to do it. It would not be long before he would begin the cleansing on the pathetic nation.
“Your things are ready, sir.” His servant said with a bow. Ishael pushed himself up to his feet with his stick and smiled a wiry smile.
“Excellent. Have the soldiers place it in the carriage and we shall make a move to Andor. You will remain here, of course, and report to me all that occurs in Amador. Everything, Child.” The servant, stone like expression, bowed his head again and made way to send the soldiers off with his belongings. He was a reliable one, the most reliable he kept closest to him. However, he would not lose his intelligence grasp on Amador simply for not being there, he did not like surprises for if he returned at a later date. He made his way outside with his little hop. The sun beamed down from above. The air was heavy on his chest. Andor was his destination. Caemlyn was his plot. The throne and the Queens removal is aim.