Legends of Belariath

Nathaniel

When Nathaniel's wings were beginning to grow and color, his clan exiled him for the color of his feathers; a deep shade of black. Some tribes/clans of Torians thought they were ill omen, that they meant certain disaster or ill fate. So, being young and alone he was captured by a carriage of a rather wealthy lady, he was young but she knew, she could find a use for this one... So when he became six, he started to do menial work. That is until physique from the hard labors caught the eye of the lead guard of pleasure slavers.

The pleasure was normally only that of his abuser, his Mistress. Even as they tried to whittle his spirit, his will to nothingness, trying so desperately to make him a shade of a proud Torian. Instead he used their abuse to strengthen his will, his mind in anger... Slowly the anger began to build, bit by bit... like a forest fire, a small ember at first, slowly growing until it engulfed the forest with its wicked embrace. He waited for the desperate escape; the day that he could be free, soar in the skies... The day he could leave the whips and the beatings... She made him service her after his beating one night a beating for the most ridiculous thing..In his mind, his spirit, the day came and the flame exploded within his soul the smoke clouding his eyes, his anger taking over controlling every movement, every breathe. Flames licked the room as people came to save her, to help her, but to no avail. Nathan woke up a few hours later, shock... happiness... the collar had fallen off, the Mistress of the enchantment had died... the room... him were covered in a coat of blood.

He fled, leaving the city, with a dagger of his Mistress, not a trophy, but a painful reminder of his past. Fleeing to any place but there, he arrived to Nanthalion... Tired... weak... a place where his true journey could start.. just not in the way he hoped for.

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