Aeron Rourke Nayland was certainly an odd child growing up. Most would accredit this to his mother, and the particular name she had made herself when she married Tyroan Nayland. While it is a bit true that Aerons father did a bit of grooming for their first son to follow in his footsteps, Aeron seemed to be guided in a different direction. This doesnt mean he ended up as a spoiled or unkind child. Rather, he just seemed different.
There was, of course, the nightmares. Even as a boy, Aeron would wake up in a sweat or screaming to thought of creatures and images he never was really able to understand. Images, while harmless, were still terrifying to a boy. Anathema, his mother, was the one who more often than not drove these creatures away with kind words, being to able to seemingly banish these dark thoughts by her sheer presence alone. She would discuss with him what they could mean, telling young Aeron that the gods had their reasons for showing him such things. As kind as the explanation was, there was still a harsh reality about. From that point as a young boy, Aeron followed his mother everywhere, or at least as much as he was allowed to. He saw her as his hero, and anything she had an interest in, so would he. While much of it he didnt really understand, he did find it all very curious, much to his fathers chagrin at times.
This was not meant to last, however, as Anathema had plans for her youngest son. As their first born was raised the way Tyroan wanted, she wanted one of their children raised as she was brought up. In the mountains of the north. So that was where he was sent north in very much the same way she was. To the Flints of the Mountains. While wasnt pleasant at first, Aeron had no desire to leave his mothers side into the care of her friends she had made during her own stay there, he made the best of it. And much in his mothers fashion he learned a great deal about the life she had led as a young woman, learning much of the same traits, even if they bent in a different direction. While he learned of the old gods, omens, and reading particular signs in nature around him, Aeron took to hunting, a needed skill in the north. A skill which he seemed to excell at. Especially at walking without noise and hiding in plain sight. The Flints of the Mountains began to groom him not only as scout, but as a highly religious young man, finding in the faith in the mountains and forests. In the bow he used to take in food and from the skill in swinging a sword.
As he aged, Aeron, who at first didnt understand why his mother would punish him in such a way, as if she was disappointed in him, found it was the exact opposite, finding letters from her on a regular basis started to learn it was anything but a punishment. He wrote telling her how thankful he was that she had sent him here. That he had finally found a calling that seemed so natural, and thanks the gods in helping her guide him to this place so that he might learn who he really was.
When the rebellion broke, the Flints of the Mountains, like the rest of the house stood up with the other Stark vassals to take arms, Aeron being one of them. It was that point that he was able to at least see one of his parents again, that being his father. Needless to say, neither was what the other was expecting. To Aeron, at least, he wasnt sure if his father viewed him a disappointment or wasted potencial.
While Aeron didnt fight on the front lines, he still did his part in the war as a scout and as rear guard archer, managing to survive more than a few large scale battles and numerous smaller ones. When the war ended, he pondered returning home to the Mire, but instead ventured back to the north, where had felt much more like himself.
It was there he stayed, honed his skill as a hunter and religious man for the better part of three years, until he a met a Wull woman named Falliah. It was destined that she was to be the woman hed marry. And marry her he did, ending up three happy years with her. While they never had a chance to have children, as it just never seemed to find time for it, they were happy. He was happy, and the letters to and from him mother told as much.
It was only when she passed did Aerons life fall apart. It wasnt a surprise or sudden development, but something that happened over the process of a month. And there was nothing he or any of the healers could do about it. A fluid that built up in her lungs, an illness notorious in the north, is what ended up claiming her life. When Falliah died, it was as if the part he loved the most about the north. She was the only other person besides his mother that he shared his constant nightmares with. And while they werent nearly as often as when he was with her, from the time she died, they only returned, stronger and more potent.
After a few weeks of trying to reclaim a life of solitude by himself, he realized there was just no joy staying where he was. It was sign from the gods that he must move on with his life, that there was nothing left for him to accomplish here. Taking that as his sign to leave, he did so, telling his mother in a letter that he would be returning home. Not only to mourn his lost wife, but to help his help during this conflict that Anathema had discussed with him. Whatever he might be to others, he would be there for his house in a time of need.
Father: Lord Tyroan Nayland
Mother: Lady Anathema Nayland nee Flint
Brother: Lord Renhardt Nayland
Sister: Lady Visenya Goodbrook nee Nayland
Sister: Layd Merida Nayland
While height might be a bit average at best, and body shape seeming to suggest a lithe but athletic form, Aeron is measured at 6' even. An amalgamation of both refined and rugged, he has rough facial features, yet doesnt suggest hes some kind of wildman; from the harsh hazel eyes that betray their focus to the meticulously shaved goatee and light beard that just always seems to have the appearance as if the man shaved just a few hours ago. His mid-length cut hair that just lightly touches the shoulders in the back and stops at his chin in the front has this slightly disheveled form to it, the kind where you run a comb through it once after bathing and then forget about it.. About the only bit keeping his hair in place is a old bandana that's usually kept snugly tied over his forehead. There's also a slight scar above his right eye that looks like it came about some time ago.
There is single word for how Aeron dresses. Which is black. Swathed in leather made from elk and deer and dyed black, it holds a look of simplicity and elegance, a long sleeved surcoat that ends at the back of his knees is secured across his chest by a series of small strap and buckles. The collar, shoulders and cuffs are lined with wolf fur for accents. While they do have a worn look about them, the craftmanship is quality, giving a well-used, if not durable look to it. The trousers and belt that cover the lower portion of his body are much the same, leather, dyed black and utilitarian. The belt carry a series of undyed hide pouches, some that give of the smell of particular herbs only found in the mountains.A silver chain is visible around his neck which is tucked under the undershirt, affixed to the chain is small, slender glass phial of thick red liquid. On his hands is a pair of black faded leather gloves - fingerless to not hamper dexterity. Tied to his left wrist is a bracelet, constructed of small carved bone, each piece tied together with portions of twine. And finally, like everything else on his person, his boots appear just like the rest of him. Black leather riding boots, trimmed with wolf fur around the cuffs.