The evening dragged on in endless hours as ominous clouds collected to block out the sun far earlier than night would fall. The rains came first in mild rhythmic pelting of the terra-cotta roofs before tuning into sweeping sheets in the deluge to follow. Lightning streaked. The cries of a woman giving birth were absorbed as the night darkened in an omen of things to come. A lone man paced outside the modest dwelling, hooded cloak with the spin of fabric around his tall frame beating against the rain as he paced to and fro in front of the door. The door was left a crack open allowing his entry at any point with the spill of light to ricochet off the splashing rain in a thin shard. He ventured not within.

The cry of a newborn at the stroke of midnight echoed as the rains ceased the moment the sound filled the night. The woman did not survive the birth. A midwife came to the door with the newborn boy swaddled in a blanket to show the man. Tears stained her cheeks as pleading words were exchanged in argument to no avail. The man only handed her a pouch of coins before leaving the scene. The woman turned back into the modest dwelling as the shard of light was cut off with the closing of the door. The sound of a bolt clicking into place sealing a fate destined. The man mounted his stallion as one in a trance before riding out into the night in the direction of the castle. An embittered woman stood at the window of the West Tower in a whispered chant.

--Cease the life in indiscretion bringing down her life and the one within in death finale.--

Deep in the woods a priestess, who had read the stars, stood within the pentagon marked by the four winds. She could only save one. Force of Five had marked this life as their own. The life was saved but with a price ever bound until the puzzle was resolved. The priestess went to intercept the midwife. The one to plea was given a mission for the price of this one tiny life held one of great importance. Teacher, trainer, mother of a motherless child. All she was allowed to give him and not the circumstances of that night nor the man's name that had come and left. These would be things he would need to find on his own one day if he met his trials and survived. His trials would take him far and wide, honing to shape the man he was to become. There would be many others that he would meet that would help in various training. Names and occurrences to be remembered by only him. Rare would be the one he shared anything with but not impossible. Nothing was impossible.

Once more the black clouds gathered marked by the trail of lightning to streak the night, illuminating the ghostly silhouette of the ship being battered by the swell of ocean and rain. Thunder clapped in its wake as the ship pitched precariously back and forth. A lone man in a hooded cloak stood at the rail watching. His lack of fear for one of the greatest forces of nature gradually spooked the most weathered sailors who noted. Dawn saw the waters to calm with the rising of the sun as they ported. The man who had kept to himself soon led the great black stallion, Storm, from the ship before mounting up and riding off. The captain had been paid well for his passage and discretion.

Aaric had traveled through many various countries and kingdoms, finally ending up in Heathfield. His first few visits proved uneventful and it wasn't until his third time that he gained conversation. It wasn't that he was shy by all mean nor was he overly forward, it was more the opportunity had not presented itself and he hadn't given up easily. Patience was one of his virtues. There was something about the lands that kept drawing him back, an undercurrent that coursed the same as the blood in his veins. Here he met others of his kind but mostly he found one he could devote his loyalty to, the Druid Prince Andrew. He finally met one whose abilities were more than his and he could learn from and in turn help to train others. A trust formed and he was taken in as one of the Prince's Elementals. In time he found Noir who was also drawn to the lands and stayed to find out why. Although not directly connected he felt it was a larger step in the scheme of things and that which laid still before him to discover about his past and of himself.

The Training of Noir

Photos are of Tiago Riani. No claims made. They are only used in how Aaric would look.