Aran


				Haunted by dreams, or plagued by reality? At night, the visions come. Fleeting and broken, they offer little� There is a man, their love is new and passionate. They are together. An intruder amongst them, her lover tries to defend, but he is unarmed. He cries out as the hot blade slices his hands, his flesh unable to parry the thrusting steel. There is blinding pain, and she screams. A third cry? A child, but where? The assassin gloats, his eyes are pinpoints of flame. Behind him is the image of the great red wyrm. The wyrm is also pleased. Her lover summons the healing power of his god. It is not enough, but the extra seconds allow his words to be heard� �My love for you is eternal, we will be joined again�. There is only darkness. Aranthalasa�s earliest real memories are those under the care of the Sisters of Erollisi. As she matured, she came to learn that she was an orphan, found in swaddling clothes atop the fountain at the Temple of Marr. Raised in the teachings of both Love and Truth, she longed to spread the word across Norrath. Stories came through the temple often, tales of the acts of the holy knights and priests of the Twins. But a few of these tales got Aran�s attention better than the rest.


	When she first heard the stories of Nagafen, the great red, she froze in her tracks. Perhaps this Nagafen was the same creature from the visions? She knew then where her path lay. Aran took up the mantle of the paladin, and immediately began her quest for the holy blade Soulfire. The sooner she was equipped to deal with the dragon, the better. Along the course of her growth as a paladin, Aran upheld her vows to the church, helping those in need and defending the just. But there was another story that had peaked her interest. A member of the Hand of Truth, a guild whose deeds were increasingly well known especially in and about Freeport, had sworn a blood-oath to destroy Rahotep, the legendary Mummy King. As Guard Brendyl in North Ro told it, the self-proclaimed Battlepriest had an ill-fated encounter with Rahotep in the recent past, and had since swept through the deserts obliterating the walking dead wherever he found them. The story of the man seemed somewhat familiar to Aran, for reasons she could not place. But when Brendyl spoke the name of the Battlepriest, a rush of images and memories returned to Aranthalasa. Basthardus. The man in the vision? Her love? She somehow knew it to be so, but how? Were these visions truly memories lost, or were they premonitions of a time yet to come. She was confused, but as always would seek her own answers. Her world, her rules. The Hand of Truth had spread across Norrath, and it was not hard to find those who knew them. Aran found Ragnarl Schattenjagger. Ragnarl too, had that aire of familiarity about him, but she could not place him. Still, she knew him at once to be generous and helpful. He managed to locate Basthardus within the walls of Unrest. He was soon on his way to meet this mysterious woman. At first glance, they were both immediately aware of one thing. They belonged together. Whether in a clouded past or foreboding future, they were destined to be as one. Since their meeting, Aranthalasa had traveled and hunted often with Basthardus, until she undertook her quest for initiation into the Hand of Truth. Her quest took her to Everfrost, as well as the limits of her patience, but she was victorious in the end. Now, Aranthalasa continues to grow. Both in her love, as the Sisters have taught her, and in her strength, as she know she must if she can hope to confront Nagafen the Red. She has come to know the bonds of friendship and family, amongst the Hand of Truth. She knows that whatever emptiness she may have once had, can be filled with Truth. In her world, the darkness does not frighten her so. By her rules, she will persevere.

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