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Name: Mathias al'Keyone
Pronunciation: Math-thi-as al' Kee-ohn-ay
Age: 17
Nationality: Amadician/Tairen
Position: Male Channeler / False Dragon
Ajah: N/A
Talents: Earth Singing, Wavedancing
Warder: Available

Mental and Physical Description:
6'3 With well kept dark hair (Think Keanu in the Matrix)and eyes the shade of new spring grass after a rain. He is finely shaped, broad of shoulder but thin of waist, he is slim yet muscular, an aesthetic form. Many woman find him attractive, though only with their eyes. He has a nasty personality. It had been rumored that he was Mordeth reborn back when he was a Captain of the Children of the Light. It was also rumored that he was being considered for not only promotion to Questioner, but quite possibly High Inquisitor and named a seat on the Council of the Annointed. He is a harsh man, cruel to his enemies, barely humane to his allies. He cant stand children, and barely tolerates his horse, all other animals usually get a swift kick. The one thing he does take solice in is his writing. He has written several books on strategy, and has a fine military mind, if a bit reckless and wasteful.

Biography:
The Dragon Reborn? Nope. False Dragon. Albeit perhaps the strongest male channeler since the Age of Legends. Mathias al’Keyone was born the son of an Inquisitor of the Light and there our story begins....

He loved festivals. They always meant parades, and he loved parades. He rolled out his bed and dressed in a rush, not even bothering to find a pair of matching stockings. His mothers being Noble gave them prime seats on a re-viewing stand for the upcoming parade. It wasn’t as close as he would have liked it, but... some things one just had to deal with. What seemed like hours later his parents arrived. His mother tousled his hair, and his father commented on how big he was growing. This moment of domestic normalcy was rare and he worshiped it. His father was on the Council of the Annointed for the Hand of the Light, and his mother was one of the movers and shakers in Amadacian Nobility, so anytime his family acted like the other kids’ he was happy. With the flourish of trumpets and the rolling thunder of drums the parade began. The brassy call awoke everyone in the city who wasn’t already and the drums rumbled like a storm. Six rows of trumpeters and drummers lead the parade! , followed by a line of Nobles’ retainers, holding standards to represent their houses. Then came the part that he had waited to see. The Children of the Light.

Rows upon rows upon rows. Each man mounted on a fierce looking warhorse. Their conicle helmets and mail gleamed in the sunlight, and their snowy white cloaks seemed to emit their own special kind of light. “See that son?” His father wispered into his ear while indicating the spectacle.

“One day that will be you.” He knew he was smiling like a fool but he couldn’t control himself. To be a Child of the Light.. And it came to pass that one day he did become a Child of the Light. And served for two years before certain... events in Tear disrupted that, and caused him to be branded an outlaw. Some people believe him the Dragon Reborn, and he does have some of the signs, but it is a stretch to connect those shaky coincidences with Prophecy and name him the Dragon. He has the Dragons on his forearms, but he has never been to Rhuidean. Allegedly both his parents are Amadacian, but both have blonde hair, his mother has blue eyes, his father, hazel, neither are the shade of green his are. But there have been Aiel seen with that shade. His family has never told him the truth, and they hope with his banishment that they wont have too. Mathias is a harsh man, but he feels the pull of the Pattern. He has been destined for great things since his birth. But he never knew ! how great. People say he is the Dragon Reborn. That would be great, and his lust for power compels him to stretch for his hands and grasp that title, enshroud himself in that path, if only he can get past the self loathing he feels for having touched the source. Already men declare for him, and against him, each striking one and the other down in turn, and waiting. The world waits. Its too good to be true... isn’t it?

Audition Piece:

Mathias al'Keyone lifted his connical steel helm, and wiped his forehead on the back of his hand. He hated Tear. The Light Forsaken city was far too hot. But at least, there was that prohibition against Channeling. Those blasted witches made thrones dance to their tune, whilst the Shadows influence grew stronger every day. He ran his fingers through his hair and then replaced his helmet. It was warmer that way, but at least he was in uniform. This heat just sucked the life right out of a man, and even the few Nobles he saw looked sick worn. Suddenly, from somewhere down the street, there came the sounds of struggle, then a few screams. Mathais’ head snapped around. He called to two of the Children near th corner to investigate. but as they started forward they were drug down by street urchins and bludgeoned to death with stones. “Light!” Mathias exclaimed softly. Even as he spoke, a mass of bodies came around the corner, rushing headlong in the direction! of the Children.

“Arm yourselves!” He called to the remaining Children, still too late for those on the other corner. As they too were drug down and bludgeoned. “Sweet Creator.” Mathias whispered, “The Dark One has them.” A second group, just as dense as the first, came from that direction. This was madness.

“Archers!” He ordered. And the ten such he had with him armed themselves and drew fletching to ear. “Loose!” He commanded. The arrows were barely free of their weapons before he had them re-armed and loosed again. Three flights of broad-head arrows in quick succession brought down the first six lines of the mob advancing on the right, but the mob on the left advanced unchecked... “Infantry to the left flank! Defensive positions!” This was not looking good at all. The left flank was broken on by the mob, whose front line went down on Amadcian Lances, but they kept coming. The Archers on the right continued to fire into the right side, at first in volleys, then at individual targets as those became more clear. Which was much to fast, and the clarity of identity was frightening in and off itself.

Mathias was going to give himself whiplash, his head went from side to side faster than he could ever remember. And then.. the fences between the housed in front of him burst and more of the mob came through there. It was a route... “Creator help me!” Mathias lamented silently, sliding into Ko’di he tugged his heron mark free of its scabbard and set himself against his foe, such as they were. Urchins in rags, with paving stones, barrel hoops, bits of broken bottles, and the like for weapons. He struck a pair down without thought, but then had to retreat onto the roof of the Inn behind him. It was only one story, very small, but he was thankful for that now. He watched in a detached manner as the rabble over ran the Children. The men for their part, struggled till the last against their enemies. Mathias watched as one by one the Snowy white of the men under his command were drug under the filthy sea of rags that was the mob. Where once there had been two rows of ! white clad men on both sides, now, there was not but a writhing pile of filth and scraps of cloth, save for one lone arm, clad in glittering white mail, it protruded uselessly from the mass, its fingers clutching vainly at nothing, and even that motion becoming slower, weaker, as appendage began to drop back beneath the mass.

In the Void, he saw a light over his shoulder, it called to him. Beckoned him. He reached for it and nearly feel from his perch at the wave of energy that broke over him. It was like a sandstorm in the Aiel Waste, trying to scour him away, to separate his mind from his soul and destroy him utterly, burn him out of the Wheels Weaving. NO! He struggled against the raging flow. He had no idea what it was, but.. he wanted to weep for its sweetness. He wanted to be ill for the repulsion he felt at its touch. He fell to his knees from the strain of fighting. He wept openly, the tears sizzling on his cheeks. His skin seemed hot, at once about to burst into flames and split open, laying him bare. Even his sword became to hot to hold, but it was a struggle to let go, it seemed attached to his skin. But Mathias fought it, this alien power. And finally, it ceased trying to destroy him and began to almost beg to be used.

Mathias struggled back to his feet. He could feel it, whatever it was, pulsing within him, begging, pleading for release. Lightning he thought, and it came. Cobalt blue bolts snapped out of a clear blue sky and struck amidst the sea of inhumanity, fountaining bodies and paving stones skyward. More Again, searing bolts fell amongst the mass, the smell of burning was sharp in the air. MORE Mathias was hungry for it now, he pulled all he could get into him, it hurt, having so much, but it was worth it. The air seemed to turn to lightning. The mass beneath him was in chaos, bodies pushing one against the other, trying to escape their fate. The lightning fell near endlessly, the cacophony from the continuous explosions was deafening. “To the bowels of the earth with you Shadow possessed beasts!” Mathias roared, but it was lost amongst the din of the lightings. And amazingly... it happened. The street just, gave way beneath the mob, ope! ning almost instantly into a gaping chasm that swallowed the bodies in discrimenatly. And then... it was finished. He had a vague feeling of motion before he hit the thatch of the roof he was on. The light fled from him. The last thing he remembered, was a man with hair of spun gold, leaning over him, dropping a cloth from about his head. And crouching next too him.

“Who?” Mathias struggled to remain conscious.. The man did not answered but instead removed Mathias gauntlets, revealing the tattoos he had had since before he could remember. Serpents in scarlet and gold, worked ceaselessly onto both his arms.

“It's him.” Was all the man said, and Mathias felt himself being lifted, and a brief sense of motion. Then, the blackness took him.