Nadrathen Hawkril
	Nadrathen was born and raised in Fal Dara. His father’s farm, where he grew up at was bordered by the blight. As a child, Nadrathen was always a dreamer. He imagined himself as a great warrior, never too interested in swords, but daggers. At the age of fifteen, Nadrathen started training with the army every season. Although he didn’t actually join in raiding parties and patrols until he was seventeen. The sword and daggers he bears were his grandfathers. His grandfather, Roilan, was a wilder. He never was enrolled into the black tower. As Nadrathen grew up, he always suspected the boy could channel, but it was not confirmed until he was almost sixteen. It happened while on a patrol into the blight. There were fifty men, including himself. They had found nothing when they turned around to head home. About half way back, they were ambushed. Probably thirty or so Trollocs and a Fade. Out of nowhere, the sky filled with cruel barbed arrows, killing many of the men. Fighting for his life Nadrathen had killed a few Trollocs, and was pinned by the Halfman. As the black sword was raised to strike, Nadrathen closed his eyes and screamed. A burst of heat, and Nadrathen lunged. To his surprise, the Fade was on the ground thrashing. The sword arm and shoulder ripped completely off. Gaping in amazement, Nadrathen stood there stupefied. Out of nowhere, an arrow struck. Protruding through his left shoulder about an inch, the Trolloc arrow pinned him to the ground. The next thing he knew, he was waken up screaming. His shoulder was being ripped off, or so it seemed. As the arrow came out, it all went black again. Months after the injury, Nadrathen started his training with the one power. His grandfather taught him to kill, not only with the power, but also with the sword and knives, which he bestowed upon the youth. The long, two-handed war sword with a barbed lance guard, and his two long, curved knives. They were sharpened on one edge, while the last inch or so of each blade was sharpened on both sides. The curve coming almost to hooks, with razor tips. They managed to keep the training with the one power a secret from Nadrathen's father. Eventually though, at the age of nineteen, his father found out. Going berserk, he almost tore apart the house, and severely injured Roilan. The injury of which he died days later. On his deathbed, Roilan told Nadrathen to leave for the black tower, to take his weapons with him. Nadrathen left that night, without going home. All he had was his black cloak, daggers, a bow and quiver and his horse. Making his way to the black tower was arduous, having to hunt for his own food and sleeping outside. Eventually, he made it to the tower, where he is now training. Is currently a Dedicated.