Galvin Menithil

[Galvin Menithil]

Name: Galvin Menithil
Age: 45


Nationality: Malkieri
Place of Birth: Malkier
Place of Residence: Tar Valon
Affiliation: White Tower
Rank/Title: Gaidin/Master of the Yard, Dreadsbane


One Power Strength: 0 (non existant)


Weapon Skills:
Martial: 9 | Hand-Held: 10 | Stave: 6| Thrown: 4 | Ranged: 3 | Mounted: 7

APPEARANCE

Height: 6’2”
Weight: 200 lbs
Build/Complexion: Toned muscle, fair complexion
Eye/Hair Color: Brown/Black


Distinguishing Features:

• Hadori holding his long hair back
  
• Scar going near his right eye
  
• 
  

PERSONALITY

Galvin is, at his heart, a teacher. As such, he is a figure for his charges that mixes somewhere between role model, mentor, and guardian. He knows that these young men, and sometimes women, will in many cases be serving as gaidin to the full sisters of the White Tower. With this in mind, he endeavors to keep high expectations for all his students and refuses to let any of his students fail from achieving them. Having such a man oversee the training can be seen by some outsiders or those who have not worked with him for long as a strict taskmaster, or in some cases a belief that he wants his students to fail, but nothing could be further from the truth.


His demeanor when dealing with his charges is always patient, and never angry. He remembers being that young, and in some cases, that eager for glory. He remains patient when dealing with his charges, knowing that their enemies will not, and knowing just how far patience will take them in their service. His tone is always calm when addressing his charges, but if necessary firm when addressing one who has overstepped his bounds.


When dealing with others, Galvin is less patient, but still makes an effort to keep himself from showing anger to those who make bad decisions. He has seen the decisions that get men killed and deems those who make such decisions either undeserving of their position or willfully malicious in their decisions. While Galvin may forgive the former, he will not allow the latter to stand and will not hesitate to call those who make such decisions out on their mistakes.

HISTORY

Galvin Menithil was born 67 FA to a soldier and his wife, who was the daughter of merchants. His early life was rather traditional for a boy of the borderlands in his position. His mother made sure that he was taught all the arithmetic, reading, and bartering skills that she had learned from her own parents. The skills she taught extended to watching and learning the traits of individuals, with his mother encouraging him to watch for the small details in how someone moved. It was not long before he was reading the motions of his friends and classmates, figuring out their moves or what they were thinking. This annoyed some of them but caused others to marvel at Galvin’s ability to predict how someone would act.


His father, as master of the horse for a local lord, taught Galvin early on how to wield a blade and ride a horse. Many an early morning in his youth was spent watching the soldiers go through their drills or train against themselves and dummies. It wasn’t common that boys were allowed to hang around and watch the soldiers train, but when your father was master of the horse you were allowed certain perks. He applied his mothers' lessons to watching the soldiers, often grabbing a stick to mimic their motions early in the day. This earned him a nickname among them, the little soldier.


At the age of fourteen Galvin enlisted with the cavalry of the local noble house, serving as one of a hundred cavalrymen in a banner under one of his many ‘uncles.’He was one of the fifty or so new recruits to the force that year, and by far one of the most experienced in dealing with horses. The little soldier was growing up, and he was eager to prove himself in a real raid.


Unfortunately for him, he would not get the chance to fight against a real raid for some time. For the first year and a half of his service, he was refused a chance to ride out on patrol or fight when the beacons were lit to signal an outlying village in distress. He was forced to drill as any other soldier was, spending time learning to move, act, and fight as one unit. To a young man who had spent his life dreaming of glory, the fact that he was stuck drilling and practicing the same skills he had mimicked as a boy was infuriating. Whenever he asked his drill sergeant about it he was told the same thing. “We make you sweat blood here so you don’t shed it out there.”


He would come to understand the wisdom of those words in time, but until he was allowed to take his place among the raids his instructor continued to push him. Physically and mentally, Galvin was pushed every day to a near breaking point. If it wasn’t drilling against the more veteran soldiers in war games it was instructions in a classroom style setting where they were drilled in different tactics, including how and when to implement them. His mothers' lessons served him well here, as he watched the veterans for signs of their next move and could react accordingly. When sitting in the classroom he learned to watch the feints in tactics for where to strike next. In addition to learning basic tactics and sharpening his skills from basics to more advanced swordplay, Galvin learned two things, the first being that the simpler the tactic you used, the better. The second thing he learned, no one expected the ridiculous to succeed, and because of that it usually did.


His first bout with real combat would also nearly be his last. In what should have been a routine patrol he and the nineteen other soldiers he was with were ambushed. A fist of trollocs ambushed them, and in the initial strike, the leading soldier was killed. In addition to their leader, two other veterans were taken down in the first volley. The fist left them with only fifteen alive, and a circle quickly closing around them. Panic began to set in quickly among the small group, but Galvin noticed a trend. There were Myrdraal among the fist. Three that he could see, but none where the Trolloc’s were the thickest. With a warcry on his lips, Galvin charged straight at the thickest part of the enemy lines, and forced his way through, followed by his companions. They escaped from the ambush without losing any more, and Galvin finally took his instructors seriously. It was clear the demons they fought would not fight in the same way men did, and he had to be ready for anything.


His initiative did not go unnoticed, and in 83 FA he was sent with approximately ten other boys his age to receive training at the white tower. Galvin ended up spending ten years at the White Tower as a Gaidin Trainee. His time there was well spent, as he was able to study under some of the finest swordsmen and tacticians in the Westlands. It also allowed him to forge ties with some of those who would later oversee his greatest test. Men like Georam Colvin, Naemar Drugos, and Davin Congar.

Training at the tower was some of the most excruciating but enlightening times of his early years. Galvin had traveled from home before, but never so far as to not be able to run back within a week if something terrible had happened. The first few weeks were the worst, as he got homesick for his family, but he found solace in the training. He had learned the basics of archery, polearms, and horseriding when he was in Malkier, but he had not the time nor the resources to explore such training in depth. The tower offered that training, and the resources to practice his skills in a way that he never could in Malkier.

Galvin’s training would be derailed near the end of his time at the tower. There were murmurs that a new crop of recently raised Aes Sedai were looking for warders, and his name had appeared near the top on a short list for more than a few of those considering a warder. He was eager to prove himself after ten years of training, and would likely have accepted most any offer if given the chance. Yet it was not meant to be, as the same day he was offered a chance to become Gaidin he received news that would end his time at the tower for nearly ten years.


It was a calm spring day in 93 FA, Galvin has been taking a walk, considering his future. He knew through the grapevine that he would be approached soon about being bonded to become Gaidin, and he was eager to find out who. It was during this walk when one of his ‘uncles’ from Malkier found him. He could not have guessed the reason for the visit, and after learning it he wished the man had found him sooner. The message was short but cut deeper than any injury he had suffered to that date. His father was dead at the hands of the shadow.


Galvin returned as fast as he could, finding his mother nearly broken from the grief. He heard the story from many, and all agreed on one detail. Nine men had ridden out with his father that morning into an ambush, they had cut many of their attacker’s down, but had been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the assault. Galvin felt a rage he hadn't thought possible for his life, he wanted nothing but vengeance for what had happened to his father. If he couldn't have vengeance against those who took his father from him, then he would kill every shadow spawn he came across until he was satisfied that the Shadow had felt his wrath.


For three years after his fathers’ death, Galvin practically lived at the border of the Blight, riding wherever the beacons called for him. It was during this time he faced and cut down his first Myrddraal in one on one combat, earning him his first title, Dreadsbane. It was also during this year that he saw just how woefully unprepared most soldiers were for a fight against such creatures.


After his rage had been spent in a fruitless hunt for vengeance Galvin turned his attention to the men and women serving in the army of Malkier. He took up a position first as a tutor to young men and women wishing to learn the sword and later as a master at arms for his lord. For five years he was content serving as an instructor, he even found a joy he’d never felt in the triumph of his charges.


During his time as an instructor, many of his old mentors would come to visit him. Many commented on his skill, how it had grown since his days at the white tower. Davin was the first, but all eventually suggested to him that he try for the heron mark. Drugos was the one who finally pushed him to send the letters to those he knew. A council of five fellow warriors who would judge his skill, anyone who could deny him the title if they found anything in his form wanting. Fortunately, Galvin remembered the points each was a stickler for and prepared himself accordingly.


The day of his test Galvin found himself surprisingly calm. He should have been shaking in his boots or sweating profusely from the pressure that would have rested on a normal mans’ shoulders that day. Yet he found himself, calm, prepared for what was to come. That day his stress was gone, his concerns were gone, in his mind, he was once again moving as freely as a child playing with sticks. To the observers, he was a whirlwind of steel, moving seamlessly from one motion to another. His footwork and movements never seemed to stop, but they were all natural and seemingly unfocused.


The demonstration lasted for hours, with the men watching him as he moved through form after form, dancing around as if he were on an imagined battlefield. Galvin barely felt it, he didn’t notice his muscles starting to scream, or the sweat that was coming from his brow. When they finally called a halt to the demonstration it all hit him at once, but his judges were all smiling, not one cast a vote of descent and he was presented with a blade forged in the Black Tower, and gifted to him for the occasion. A true power wrought blade, unbreakable and never able to dull. It would be the first of two of the greatest gifts he would ever receive.


After his recognition as a blademaster, Galvin decided to return to the White Tower. Uncertain what he would find, he only knew that while he could continue to do good work among the borderlands, he would find more who needed his guidance among the white tower. He took his place again among the Gaidin hopefuls, but unlike the others, he had a heron marked sword, and so often found himself playing instructor informally. He found the work rewarding even as he worked alongside men and women half his age who were just learning how to best wield a weapon, his skills were finally being put to a purpose once more, and it felt good to be doing something that could harm the shadow more than any single raid or battle could.

It was during this time that he began a friendship with one Avyanna Saraat, the Mistress of Novices and Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah. She had held that position since before his first visit to the tower so many years ago, and as a fellow teacher, Galvin found they had much to talk about. It was not long after his return to the tower that Avyanna asked him to join her in service to the light as her warder, and he happily accepted such a post. Now he not only had a place at the tower, he felt as if he had a true purpose in his life once more.


Due to his Aes Sedai being practically bound to the tower, along with his own penchant for teaching, Galvin found himself spending more and more time in the training yards. As time went on, he slowly went from working with new students to seeing those he helped to train become warders, and before long he was asked to formally take over training in the Yard. With little else to entrust his days to unless Avyanna needed him for something it seemed a decent position for a Blademaster and former borderlands soldier, and so he stood and continues to stand at his post for the past five years. Watching over his charges, he takes great pride in those who continue their service to the tower as Gaidin, while offering those who choose another life an example of how their skills can be put to use even if they choose not to join the tower.

Books read: Everything up to Knife of Dreams, but I did not finish that book.