Trivia

Character

History

Born to a family in Exile from their home, Natsilane has only known the harsh cold of his homelands farthest reaches. Hidden away from the houses and the wastelands and the gods--whatever noble blood ran through his veins was lost to him. He did not have a silver spoon to feed him grains plenty, nor did he have servants to wait on his every whim. Natsilane had himself and his siblings, and for a time they had a mother. And their father, well he had gone into the wilderness and never returned. They kept to the fringes due to fear, as their mother had told it, the lineage in which they came from had been hunted to near extinction. A rival house had blood with theirs, and the three children were all that remained tied to an age-old king. Natsilane as a boy had dismissed much of it as the ramblings of an aging, deranged mother. Regardless of why they were there, Nat grew up knowing how to survive in the harshest of conditions. The world gave to him and in return, he only ever took what he needed.

Death & Ressurection

The day he died had started like any other. His sister, Nantosvelta, and himself had been ordered to go collect what they could find for food by their oldest brother Neridian. In the hours the two scanned the world for food and supplies, the duo had come to the icy shores of SIldr's farthest reaches. Nat had never set eyes upon it before, though rivers were intimidating enough, the ocean was an expanse unfathomable to the young boy's mind. Curiosity stabbed at his mind, and, against his sister's demands to keep away from the shore, Nat proceeded with foolhardy caution. Most of it was frozen, ice so thick it negated whatever waves had formed. A giggle from his mouth erupted into the cold air as he leaped gleefully from ice-block to ice-block, ignoring his sister's pleading voice from the safety of the shore. He called back twice to reassure her it was safe, that he was sage; but fate had a very different plan for the young boy. As Nat began to pick his way back to the shoreline, a distinct crack resounded in his ears. He felt his body move as the ice split in two; unable to fit on either side of the block fully, his body crashed into the frigid sea. The water was like a knife to his chest, skin tingling with the sensation of such unholy cold. As disoriented as he was, by the time young Nat had been able to distinguish up from down, the ice had moved and covered his point of entry. Panic began to rise in his chest, and far off muffled screams of his sister bounced through the dark waters. His insides felt like they would burst, and as he opened his mouth to breath he choked and only engulfed water into his lungs. The pale light of the arctic sun was all he saw as his limbs went limp--and it felt like an eternity before the black dots overtook his vision as he drifted to the bottom of the sea. Natsilane had never known death as intimately as he had in those moments; as all children do, he thought himself above such a dark force of nature. Yet here he was, drowned, a corpse to decorate the dark sands of the sea floor. Nat couldn't tell you how long he had been like that. Whether it had been a day or hours, or months; but one thing was for certain--when he opened his eyes and felt the water drug from his lungs as air rushed back in, the boy had been saved....but also changed. It didn't register at first, that the feeling in his back legs had been altered in some way. But as he went to stand on shaky legs, Nat fell back to the cold icy block that floated in the sea. His pale gaze turned to his back end, only to be met with horror. Whatever force had saved him, had taken his legs as compensation--and now, he stared at the fins of a blackfish silken smooth as water dripped from its shiny hide.

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