Hard to tell. Young face with graying hair
Tarsorel was raised in a rural part of Gondor. His father was a blacksmith and his mother kept the household. It was a happy childhood with little concern. Tarsorel learned his fathers trade from an early age. He also learned his letters and maths from his mother, who kept the books for the family business on top of her household duties. But most importantly, Tarsorel grew up with Alandra. Alandra, his first childhood friend. Alandra, his first chaste kiss under the willow tree. Alandra, his first love. His wife. The mother of his children.
Alandra. His children, Boe and Cylanda.
Tarsorel joined the army, leaving his young wife and twin children with his parents. He hoped to earn enough money soldiering to build a nice home. To go to Gondor and set up a blacksmith shop. To give his family a better life than he had. Such are the dreams of the young. Full of wonder and excitement, heedless of danger and strife.
He returned home and was happy for a time. Until the war found his small village. Until the orcs came. Until he could not defend that which he loved, and so, lost everything. His failure is now his constant companion. He shame his secret. And the scar on his face a constant reminder of what he had lost.
Lavendara, Ryheric, Mildwynn
Family, kinship, faithfulness.
Orcs, fighting, himself
Tarsorel is looking for purpose after his losses