Daven Marnail

[masterqy1221]

Name: Daven Marnail
Height: 5'9
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Dirty Blonde
Other Noticeable Features: No scars, no facial hair with occasional stubble from time to time (either forgotten shave or a bad shave)

Physical Appearance:
A young man stands before you of average height, slim, and well-muscled. His clothing is in the Andoran style. The material appears to be all wool, sturdy and reliable, yet his coat bears a fine scarlet embroidery just around the turned-back cuffs. There is a mug in his hand.

Sporting a head full of dirty blonde hair (cropped all around but worn longer on the top) that frames a welcoming round face, his warm brown eyes under low arched brows deem him potentially approachable. Fortunately, any doubts of quality fellowship are quickly dispelled as his relaxed face cracks into a handsome grin.

His warm baritone voice asks you to join him at a nearby table and offers you a mug of the inn’s finest, as well as a laughing promise of good company for at least the hour.


Personality:

Daven bears a warm and open demeanor. If seen in a tavern you may catch him ordering a round for the establishment, drinking heartily, or leading the uninhibited chorus of patrons as a gleeman performs his song cycle. If seen on the Queen’s Road however, he may be on his knees attempting to jury rig the axle of a farmer’s broken cart.

This behavior of openness and caring was birthed from his family’s relatively wealthy background, and the safety which the Queen’s Guard promises in the heart of Andor.

Despite bearing an openness somewhat uncharacteristic of the Westlands in this time of chaotic turmoil, the youth is not completely transparent. Daven does not trust often or easily. Being open has granted him the presence of many friends and acquaintances, drinking chums and jokesters, but very few actual companions. Aside from a handful of close confidants, the only group of people the youth implicitly trusts are his immediate family and his uncle. He doesn’t lack the ability to trust, rather, he holds a shield over his heart which keeps him from betraying too much of himself to others who may not actually be invested in him.

The youth has a moral code inherited from his father, nurtured by his mother, and derived from generations of Queen’s men who valued the Light alongside the righteousness of the Queen’s Justice. He seeks to do the right thing. He seeks to help. These two determinations motivate many of his actions, but occasionally they conflict. Daven has realized that the right action may not always be the correct choice, but this realization is still very far from true understanding.


Biography to be posted...

[masterqy1221]

Biography: 

Being from the greatest city in the greatest nation in the Westlands has its perks. Daven, oldest of four Marnail offspring, was near fated to be a merchant master of dealings in both the inner and outer cities. His father, Gein, spent the better part of forty years crafting a small mercantile empire through the city of Caemlyn. It seemed as if the eldest Marnail’s path was set.

The Pattern had other plans.

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The beginning of Daven’s life was spent on the move. Gein’s risky business gambits with various peddlers and their crowns guaranteed his young wife and first child a life constantly on the move with only occasional respite. Never stopping to settle for many several months at a time, this chaotic period gradually slowed and for the most part halted when Gein was able to settle his family in a small hovel on the outskirts of the outer city. During Daven’s time in this home, he would see the birth of a sister born still, a younger brother born bouncing, and many friends who made play with wooden sticks and starry eyes. The youth’s education also began during his period. Due to a lack of spare crowns, his mother, Tris, was his first educator and taught him the fundamental knowledge he would need to one day follow in his father Gein’s footsteps.

At the age of twelve, Daven would be sent every harvest season aiding his uncle, Eltan, in the nearby countryside. The work was hard but necessary as Eltan had no children. Here Daven grew in strength and learned the value of a hard day’s work. It also gave him time away from home. Eltan taught the boy many lessons one couldn’t learn from a book or from a mother.

Each season Daven would return from harvest and find more changes to his life. One year he was gifted with a baby sister, as well as a brilliant tutor that taught him to sing as well as greater lessons. The next return, he was gifted with a bigger bed and his own room. After that he came back to the adoring eyes of young women his age, a change that took him quite some time adjusting to.

As one harvest season around his fifteenth year came to a close and Daven expected to return home, he was greeted by his mother and two siblings at the farmhouse with the news that his father had failed. Gein Marnail made a foolish mistake. Everything they had was gone, lost to a collector. Gein, unable to face his family, sent them to Eltan’s farm while he vowed to set the situation right. The next year could have been worse. Eltan was able to provide for his brother’s family and Daven helped his mother to raise his younger siblings.

Gein Marnail gradually was able to regain his footing in the city, and bettered it. The disgraced patriarch had acquired enough wealth to reclaim his family and settle them in the Inner City of Caemlyn. Daven spent the last part of his teen years living in comfort and enrichment. The lad was gifted with the final part of his tutored education and sword lessons from a Queen’s Guard veteran. It was during this time he acquired a love of dancing (a skill he will unfortunately never be good at), a desire for good company, and an appreciation for fine drink.

It was one winter’s night when Daven returned home late from drunken carousing. He found the usually roaring fire, normally kept stoked and maintained by a night servant, extinguished with not a fresh log readily available. Despite the desperate chill in the room, his slight inebriation got the better of him and he dozed off in a comfortable chair. As he drifted to sleep, his only driving thought was how badly he wanted that fire lit. The next morning he was found curled up sleeping on the same seat, but the fire was roaring as if freshly stoked. No new logs had been placed, and this was obvious to anyone who walked by. A servant walked in before the youth had awoken and notified Master Gein of the occurrence.

Initially perplexed, Gein brushed it off as strange happenstance. This was a most chaotic time in the Westlands and a fire stoked in the night seemed easy to brush off. Then Daven grew sick. The sickness came on strong, exactly one week after the incident, and fled as quickly as it came. Within the hour of fainting and developing a fever, Daven was well and able to move about as normal. Something was amiss.

Gein spent many hours in his study, long contemplating the nature of what could have been happening around him. He thought of family and honor. He thought of the past. He did not want to think of the present or what he was about to do. Cutting losses always seemed painful.

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Gein looked his oldest son square in the eye, and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You are to leave this house and never come back. You are to forget about us . You are dangerous.” Gein bit his lip “I… truly don’t know what to say. I’m ashamed of you, but I’ve known you your whole life. I knew you were special, but… this.” Gein looked accusingly at his son. “Why did you have to be one of those…” Gein trailed off, unbelieving of what he was saying.

“Father, what you are doing is crazy” Daven retorted “You know nothing for certain! There has been NOTHING to suggest that I am like one of those madmen.” He paused and took a deep breath, “I tell you, I will humor your fancy and go to this Black Tower” the youth swallowed, “And I will return to you, mother, Salvad and Emry, and I will tell you how foolish you all have been.”

Gein spoke quickly “They know nothing; your brother and sister I mean. They think you are going away to apprentice in Saldea. They know not a thing” Daven glanced quickly over to his waiting mother and siblings and frowned, yet Gein squeezed his shoulders, “If you care about them, you tell them nothing. Let them think what they will. This will be easier for them. Let them have their story.”

Daven laughed and cracked a handsome grin, “You are the one with your story. This is what will happen. I will make the journey to this Black Tower, I will be checked for this… ability, and once they assure me that the only madman is my father I will clap them on the back, we will have a drink, and I’ll be back on my way.” The youth didn’t care to notice how fake his confidence felt. Gein only looked at him and moved to help him load his horse. The older man’s eyes were moist but dismissed as simply ‘the wind playing tricks’.

Once that exchange was finished Daven played his role and assured his younger siblings that he would return once his ‘apprenticeship’ was finished. His sister asked for souvenirs while his brother openly sobbed. The three embraced, perhaps for the last time. Daven looked into his mother’s eyes. They were sunken and tired; she may have wept the night before. After a moments pause, she nodded in affirmation. She knew what Gein contemplated. Daven hugged his mother and when they parted, he did his best to smile. It was the least he could do to comfort her.

Gein faced Daven, his son and once heir, and spoke softly “You are a Marnail. Always, forever, and my son. But you are also something else.” They embraced “Creator shelter you; and I am sorry I cannot accept you. The world can not accept you. You are dangerous. Go to this Tower, and perhaps do some good with your life.” Daven wanted to say something to his father. Some joke, crack a grin, tell him he was a fool again. The young man wanted to do many things.

Daven mounted his horse and left towards the Black Tower.