Marathesian dar Murdran
From Zok
Marathesian dar Murdran is the patriarch of House Marathesian, the governor of Salturs craggy easternmost province, and an uncannily canny politician. He and his three siblings spent their childhood in the frozen wastes of the Northlands, watching their father's army slowly whittle itself away into pools of steaming red ice against fur-clad hordes of orcs and ogres that inhabit that land. He returned home from across the sea to Weldnig in his seventy eighth year, his skin and hair as white as the snows he left behind. When he attended the Hall of Names in Valtadre, his fellow students whispered that he had not been born ash-white, but had become so upon witnessing his father's death. Marathesian cut a quiet an unobtrusive figure, and after his arrival went largely unnoticed by the student body. It took everyone but his teachers very much by surprise when he graduated the Hall two hundred and eighty years later with the title "Whisperer of Truths" bestowed upon him directly by his predecessor, the Speaker of Unpopular Vulgarities.
Two decades later, Marathesian bought a mine in the eastern mountains from Saltur, and began digging. He struck mithril within weeks, and quickly began selling the raw metal to Saltur dar Itar. Quickly hiring smiths capable of turning his luck into profit, he began churning out weapons and armor of the highest quality. He used the profits to send his personal guards to study battle at Tein-Larion, and later Black Mountain, and to start more mines throughout the eastern mountains. When Saltur led the nobles against the Stormdancer, they wore Marathesian's armor and bore Marathesian's swords. With victory came the foundation of the city of Saltur, and Marathesian's miners and masons supplied much of the labor that carved the city from the mountainside. In return, Marathesian took the deposits of precious metals and gems that were found during the excavation.
With the skill of an expert statesman, the pale young scholar married off each of his three siblings (to each of the three other major noble houses), tying tight the bonds of loyalty with those who would otherwise have been his foes. So blissful were the marriages that Marathesian arranged that he was twice offered a position teaching Matrimonial Arrangement at Tein-Larion, but he quietly declined, pointing out that when you knew someone as well as he knew his siblings, you knew what they wanted in a life partner. Marathesian tactfully avoided marriage (and, indeed, participation in society in general) for centuries, before announcing his engagement to Lianiel, a demure and graceful waif with deep violet eyes and a pretty laugh. The other nobles were surprised, for she was not of noble blood, but they realized quickly upon attending the wedding ceremony that Marathesian had married for love; for the quiet young lord was utterly smitten with his shy bride, and beamed a smile that had gone absent on his face for centuries whenever he looked upon her. They put their political machinations aside, and enjoyed the happy couple's happiness, and privately exchanged their suspicions that perhaps the girl would soften Marathesian's mood enough for him to reduce the price on his mithril.
Description
Marathesian is as white as a lily grown on in white sand and fed only freshly melted snow. His hair and skin blend into each other, at a distance, for they share the same pure sheen. His face is free of wrinkles, though his countenance bears the hint of a sad smile so common among those who have stewarded the centuries as they drifted by. The expression never reaches his eyes, which are the bright cold blue of the sky on a clear winter's morning. Only when in the presence of his wife, Lianiel, does Marathesian truly smile, and then his smile is that of pure and unaffected love.
Fond of efficiency, Marathesian wears simple robes in his family's colors (white, silver, and violet), donning his fashionably austere mithril breastplate only for formal occasions. His presence is slightly unnerving to those not used to him, because he is uncharacteristically silent: his clothes do not rustle, his breath is inaudible, and he does not speak unless he has something to say-and even then he speaks quietly and calmly. This last quality is the source of a great deal of the respect granted him by his peers, who have learned to heed carefully what little advice Marathesian offers.
Abilities
While few living people realize it, there is no one in Saltur who has ever caught Marathesian at a disadvantage. He has been surprised (if only on three or four occasions in the past century), but he has never lost his temper, never jumped out of his chair, never gasped. When the Stormdancer crashed through a plate-glass window into King Saltur's court during the king's marriage ceremony, some claim he raised an eyebrow. Marathesian is either a man who is able to plan for every circumstance, or a man who gives off the distinct impression of having done so.
He is also a passable swordsman and one of the Twelve Masters of the Hall of Names at Valtadre, where he has taught one or two highly advanced courses on the art of persuading an unknown entity to become the name chosen for it.
