Tregan Kaldair..Omega of this pack..sometimes he has been called stern..arrogent..maybe even a bastered was he called more then once..he was usualy seen around the castle in the training grounds..where they have archery ranges set up..training dummies..wooden weapons so the students and new warriors dont hurt themselves..a spareing ring set up where two or more opponents can face off agaisnt one another to hone their skills..but the training grounds were empty today..tregan sat there along on a small wooden chair faceing the empty space..his crystal blue saphirre eyes seem deep in thought..his fingers slowly rolling a small 4 pipe pan pipe set in them..seeming to be a childs toy in his large hand..as he licks slowly over his lips..his fingertips brining the pipes slwoly to them..<br/><br/>The melody to follow was absolutely beautiful..almost remorseful as it carried on the wind..his lips moveing across the pan pipes the tune an old norse lullaby sung by mothers to their sons..course normal european children would probably have nightmares from the words of such a lullaby but the tune is sweet and sad none the less..his eyes slowly closeing halfway through his playing..his facial features begining to harden as if in anger..when the last note is struck by his lips on the pipes his hands dropped the pipes to the ground as he stood up his hands pulling the hachets from his hips flipping and throwing them as one strikes a dummy dead center where the sternum would be the other collideing with a dummy's forhead.. takeing a deep breath as he moved over to retrive them..slideing them back into their hip loops as he picked up his pan pipes and slid them into a pouch on his belt..pushing his dirty blond hair back from his face. "i need a drink" he said softly to himself as he turned to leave the training ground and head his way down torwqards the village...his fingers curling and relaxing as the constant struggle with his past continues*<br/>