Aeron was born and raised in the secluded community of Caria, of about only 60 adults (and fewer children). His community was virtually unknown to the rest of the world, and the world was unknown or ignored by the community. The small village was entirely self-sufficient, surviving by foraging, hunting, and gardening. Because of this, Aeron, and all the children of the community, were essentially reared by the whole village, and all the children were like siblings.
Being so small, the village had only one figure of authority: the Prophet. The Prophet was not even truly an authority figure, in the traditional sense, in that he/she was more of a councilor, teacher, and mediator rather than a ruler. The Prophet was also blessed with some small ability to heal. While the Prophet, and indeed the village as a whole, did not worship any deity (they didn’t believe such existed), they venerated the land and the “sun spirit” as the force behind their lives. It was believed to be this force that gave the Prophet power and wisdom. The only thing binding a Prophet was that at some time the Prophet would foresee his/her own death and, knowing it to be coming soon, would choose a replacement. The Prophets always said that the sun spirit would tell them to whom they should pass the role.
Even when Aeron was a young child, some of the villagers believed that he would be destined to be the Prophet some day. He had a natural intuition, almost like a sixth sense. He was also good at aiding others. Aeron helped tend the ill, and sometimes predicted changes in the weather. He even believed he could sometimes sense the sun spirit. Aeron also had a strong presence and character. He found ways to inspire both the children and adults. Somehow even the children that were envious of him all liked him.
Despite all of this, Aeron himself did not want to become the Prophet. As intuitive and personable as he was, he was sometimes prone to dark moods. When these odd times hit him, he wanted nothing to do with anyone. He didn't see himself as the leader of these people. Oddly, or perhaps actually not, the Prophet alone seemed to understand his plight. The current Prophet was Saevel, and he always told Aeron that if his heart longed for a solitary life, that is what he should seek. Despite the fact that Aeron did not want to become the next Prophet, he found himself more often in Saevel’s company than anyone else’s.
Because of the relationship they had forged and Saevel’s insistence that Aeron pursue his own life, Aeron felt very betrayed when Saevel pronounced one morning that the sun spirit revealed Saevel's coming death and named Aeron as his successor. Despite the fact that the villagers assumed Aeron would be the Prophet, they were also taken aback. Saevel was not even yet 45 years old, while Aeron was still a child barely past 16. Unable to contain his bitterness and sorrow, Aeron quickly ran out of the village, climbed into a tree, and cursed his life until he fell asleep. Saevel implored the people to let him go, saying that Aeron would return as the sun spirit would dictate.
Aeron awoke in the night to the sounds of his people screaming. Caria was being attacked. He ran to the edge of the village and was shocked to see a horde of fiendish monsters and undead slaughtering his people. By the light of the full moon he could well see the forms of humans lying motionless among the burning homes. He despaired. There was nothing that could be done. It seemed that it was over before he even reached the village. Aeron had decided to vanish into the forest when he saw the most horrid sight he has ever seen. In the middle of the village a walking corpse was eating the face of a dead man. But Aeron could tell by the staff lying next to the form that it was the body of Saevel. Consumed with rage, Aeron ran to grab a burning stick from one of the houses. He swiped at the corpse, and it fled. He ran out to Saevel and knelt by his desecrated form. Aeron began to sob immediately, as Saevel's blood soaked into his clothing, not even noticing the undead moving toward this one last living man. As he sobbed, one of the wicked creatures laughed. The hideous noise was only barely recognizable as such, but it was indeed a laugh.
Aeron grabbed the Prophet’s staff and slowly stood to meet the gaze of these foul creatures. Soaked in blood, face full of tears, he stood resolute before them. Saevel, the Prophet, was dead. Aeron had been named, which meant that whether he wanted or not, though his people were all dead, he was now the Prophet of Caria. Aeron summoned all his will, and in a voice steady and proud called to the creatures: “By will of the Prophet, you shall leave NOW!”
Silence. The creatures did not stir. Aeron didn’t even know if they had understood him. It was almost as if his words alone had caused them to be taken aback. Then, the monster in front laughed again. A black “something” flew at Aeron’s face. He dodged, but there was another. And then…darkness….
An odd sensation. Bumping, moving.
“Not yet. Rest child.”
The sensation again. Yes, I am awake. I am being carried. Strong gentle hands.
“Yes, dear child, you may rouse for a bit.”
“No, my son. I am not he.”
“Let me walk. Why can I not see? Who are you?”
“Remain calm, child. Had I meant harm, it would be done by now. You cannot yet walk on your own, and your eyesight will come back soon. You will see the sun again.”
“But who are you?”
“So inquisitive. Yes, you must rest more.”
“…but I sensed something. I tell you, Father Orlpar, the boy is special.” A female voice? But I thought it was a he.
“Yes, Amra, but bring him inside. He has obviously been through a great deal.” That one is male, but not the same.
“Whe…where is the other?” Aeron softly asked.
“My goodness!” Amra exclaimed. "The boy is coming around."
“What other, child?” Orlpar asked. “There was no one with you.”
Aeron opened his eyes, and was amazed. The two standing over him where surely humans, but they looked not like his brethren. And the place he was in had an intricate feel he admired, but it was nothing like the simple work his people did. And so many people…
“Oh, Father, by the look on his face, he must be one of those reclusive folk that has never seen a city before.”
“Fear not child. You are at the house of Pelor, the Shining One.”
Aeron spent the next few years or so leaning to be a cleric of Pelor. The clergy are quite scholarly and taught him many things. He came to realize that the sun spirit that he and his people had been so connected to was in fact Pelor, and the powers the Prophets had were actually divine. He also came to think that the man who had saved him and brought him to the city may actually have been the Shining One himself. The clergy believed it to be possible as well.
He focused his main attention upon learning about the creatures that were responsible for the destruction of his people. He knows that time will give him the strength to right the wrongs that occurred.
Aeron, after training, left the city to search out the evil that he seeks to destroy. He has traveled to a couple of places, sometimes at the mere rumor of undead. Now he's caught wind of the trouble in Hommlet. Perhaps, in this place that once held such great evil, Aeron will be able to do the work of his master. His determination is matched by his overwhelming sense of what is good.
“I thank you, sir. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t found the cultist raising the zombies.”
“Think nothing of it, madam. No, please keep your gold. You have more need for it.”
“Thank you, sir. What did you say your name was again?”
“I am Aeron, the Last Prophet of Caria.”