Full Name:  Hanad
Gender: Male
Age: Unsure
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Nonexistant
Birthplace: Sonhi Territory
Birth Season: Summer

Atop a floating berg of ice, I peer into my soul...

Born into a poor family from the region controlled by the Sonhi, I was sent away by my family as soon as I could "survive" in the wilds.  Through these wildernesses I wandered for seven years, learning much of the surrounding lands.  It was during these years that I learned to be still as the mountain, yet open as the winds which now blow through my hair.  It was also during this time that I learned of my affinity with the healer's magics.  Having heard tales of the great tutors of Kugnae from other travelers, I sought their aid in learning how to use these gifts.  The old warrior, Iron Heart, was the first of my teachers, from him I learned the rudiments of my skills.  My next master, Jinsun, took me into his guild, taught me the ways of the healer, and he continues his teachings as I become more aware of my world with each insight.  My awareness is broadening, and I realize that Jinsun, while still vital to my learning, cannot provide all of the knowledge I seek.  Seeking more than these things, I began to look for a family, since I cannot again find my natural family.  I am yet to locate my family, but they will be a base to which I will return after a period of wandering.  With each trek through the wilds, each day of meditation, I gain knowledge of the world around me.  My awareness heightens with each day, and I feel a certain calling upon me.  I seek that which, at first, seems difficult to obtain, and with my growing wisdom, I learn daily that what I seek is much more difficult to obtain than what I perceived it to be the day before.  I have become aware of my own ignorance, yet still pursue my goal with an open mind, body, spirit, and soul...  My past has been lonely, yet I found comfort in my solitude.  My future is unclear.  I am aware of the path upon which I will trod, though I know not what my path, or my future, will contain.

Such are the wanderings of an aspiring monk.

Soaked with cold rainwater, I rub my slightly numbed hands together.  I roll up my parchment, slipping a thin band of arctic grass around it to seal my writings.  I stand, and supporting my wet and weary body with my walking stick, I make my way back to the town of Kugnae.  Dropping my message at the postman's hut, I say to him, "Please deliver this to Desvet."