I wrote a few character sketches for my MCs in What Lies In The Dark a few weeks ago. So, I figured I’d post them here, since I haven’t posted anything about that book yet. Anyways, here you go. 😀
I am Emuna and I grew up in the small town of Realta hidden by a forest, mountains, and uncharted territories. I was born in a time of war and my father was off fighting before he had even seen my face, I never met him. So my mother struggled to raise me and my older brother, she would teach us everything she could while desperately trying to support us.
Once my brother was of age, he began to train for war. And so at the age of 15 my brother completed his training. I remember watching him march off into the horizon with an army by his side. At the age of 8 my mother couldn’t explain very much to me about what he was going to do, but she didn’t have to. I already knew.
As I grew I slowly adventured more into the village and attempted to make friends with other children my age, attempts though were all that they were. It seemed my name was a common topic, one which I didn’t know much about. I asked my mother and she explained to me that she had heard the legend from an elder once and when I was younger she used to sing it to me and it would calm me. I liked the tale she told me about my name and never let anyone tell me otherwise.
But I don’t wish to weld on this subject…To clarify, I lost my mother when I was 10 only one week after my brother had returned from a battle. An army had attacked our town and my brother had been instructed to lead us and two of our neighbors to a cave in the forest until the fighting died down. My mother held my frightened form on her lap as she once again whispered the tale of Emuna into my ears to calm me. There was a twang of a bow string and I felt a warm liquid on my arms, my mothers strong grip suddenly lifeless as her hands slipped from my body. I lifted my head from her chest to see the red feather of an arrow jutting from it, just barely missing me. I cried into her body that was slowly growing cold, seemingly oblivious to what war that could’ve been ragging behind me. My body tensed as I felt my brothers arms wrap around me and carry me out of the cave, leaving my mother behind.
Since then I have been training as a soldier. My brother tried to convince me otherwise, but his words were useless and in the end I convinced him to talk to the chief about placing me in archery training. I began my training when I was 11 and by the time I was 14 I knew enough war craft to hold my own in battle. I was taught in archery, hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship, & I can handle myself with a dagger pretty well too.
I am 16 now and my long brown hair reaches to my waist from years of not cutting it since my mothers passing. I currently reside in my brothers home with his wife Sarah and infant son. As for friends, or loved ones, other than my brother and his family I am not close to anyone. Nobody sees me when I cry myself to sleep the nights I remember the day of my mothers death or knows my interests in the uncharted territories behind the mountains that no one dares to cross.
In one month I am to go into my first battle, our chief has set his sites on the tribe of Wesmorin and is gathering the soldiers to begin the siege soon. The first battle is important for young soldiers like myself, though my brother does not think I am ready I beg to differ. I am more than ready.
I am a warrior of the town of Realta and my name is Brian. It means strong man, my parents picked it out for the meaning since I was chosen to be a soldier from birth. My father was a commander in the army when I was born and my grandfather fought in the wars until his death 5 years before my birth and so I am to carry on the tradition, whether or not I want to.
Since I was 10 years old I began learning of the ways of war, until than I had been taught small bits of grammar, history, and geography. Most young men do not continue with their studies when they begin training for battle, but I did. Especially geography, I find interest in studying the lands far beyond, though we are forbidden to cross past the mountains. My father does not approve in my fascination of the “weak man’s arts” as he calls them, he thinks they are…well…for weak men. My mother’s opinion is not spoken, but I know she secretly is proud of her “smart little boy”. She isn’t aloud to call me that in front of my father, though, because it will result in a lecture of how I am a “warrior” and not a “little boy”.
The problem I have is, I have disappointed my father. I went into battle for the first time when I was 15, I was gone for a week fighting for what is ours. To be entirely honesty, I did not take joy in it, despite the opinions of everyone that I was good at it. Though, the battle isn’t what pried me to make the decision to tell my father I did not want to be a soldier. When I came home my younger sister had fallen ill and, at the age of 7, passed away, not 1 hour before I came back. I suppose I could get into the science of my choice, that I blame myself or whatever it is my mother tries to convince me out of, but I don’t wish to. I only tell you this because I would like to state that I have not gone into battle since.
I am 16 now and I am yet to march off into another battle. I still carry my sword with me and go on the occasional hunting trip to assist in catching a hare, but not battle. My father is disappointed in me and has not treated me the same since I turned down the family tradition, it doesn’t really matter to me though since I knew the instant I picked up a geography scroll that I would not live to my father’s expectations.
As for my mother, she seems to be satisfied with me doing “whatever my heart desires”. Indeed I do just that, I enjoy going to the elders and speaking with them about legends foretold about the uncharted lands. But do not be fooled, despite my lack in official battle training, I can still hold myself in battle if necessary, Gavin made a mistake of underestimating my skills once, but that it a whole other story.
My name is Gavin and I am the son of the chief of the tribe of Realta and I am 17 years of age. One day I am to take over his position of chief and I will rule Realta. Of course, I must first do many things. Beginning with my first “flawless battle” as we call them in Realta. This is a time when I young soldier goes into battle and does not suffer any serious injuries. These are extremely hard to accomplish, but I will someday, for it is my destiny. Another thing I must do is kill my first mountain lion. In this ceremony me, my father, and some of the strongest teenage soldiers we have go into the mountains in search for a great mountain lion. When we find him I am to shoot him with a bow…admittedly I am not the best archer, I find myself to be more handy with a sword. Never the less I shall hit that mountain lion, I have been training for it my whole life.
When I was born my parents were overjoyed, at the time they had one eight year old girl, but they were in desperate need for a male heir. They said when my brith was announced the whole town rejoiced and feasted for a week!
My older sister married to a local peasant when I was 10. I do not understand how she can marry a peasant a scholar none the less. But we weren’t talking about her we were talking about me. As I was saying my sister married when I was ten. I remember this because I was ten when I began my battle training. Starting with sword-fighting, hand-to-hand combat, archery, and dagger throwing, last. I grew quiet fond of these things and I have a dream as to putting then to use. My mother told me of the uncharted territory, how no man dares to go past the mountains, I hope to one day charge into those territories and conquer them for Realta.
But that us a long time away, let’s speak of present events. Such as my first battle to be next week! It is customary that 16 year old soldiers go into their first battle, though when I was 16 it was a time of peace. So now at 17 I shall go into my first battle. And fight flawlessly.