Thrice-Cursed Nathaniel's page

Wetherby has been generously hammered on life’s anvil, and his skin is tanned and lined to reflect that. Although young by Aasimar standards his short cropped black hair has streaks of silver in it, and lines at the corners of his mouth and his silver eyes.

Lithe and wiry, Nathaniel is tougher than he looks, but that isn’t hard. He tends to prefer to dress pleasantly, his bracers hidden beneath loose sleeves and other items underneath his hat, tucked into his collar and other places. Only his unusual belt and the monstrous rifle he tends to carry around with him.

Nathaniel’s voice still has remnants of a smooth, passive tone but like the rest of him sounds dried out and weary now. He keeps himself clean and well soaped, but sometimes things aren’t quite that easy.

The word to sum Nathaniel up would be ‘tired’. Worn out by life he comes across as tired, but friendly. He tends to hold himself a little apart, and is very slow to trust unless someone does something heroic. While he talks about his past reasonably easily, he’s slow to open up to people about his feelings and needs.

Despite being worn down by life, he continues to help people. Either with small jobs or hunting monsters to defeating bandits. Partially it’s because he hopes to make up for his past, and partially it’s simply because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

Nathaniel’s mother claims that Nathaniel’s father was a child of the Archon Hebath, herself a daughter of the Empyreal Lord Zohls. Theoretically, that would make Zohls Nathaniel’s great-grandmother, although how accurate that is...but Zohls seems to like Nathaniel, at the least.
Still, biology is a little odd, sometimes, and even an Aasimar has more than one parent. Nathaniel’s mother was one of the Fey, and while loving and caring, also capricious and forgetful. Nathaniel learned young to survive on his own, as occasionally his mother would simply forget little details like ‘feed the child’, or what mortal children could eat.

As he grew into a young man, watching how chaotic life was...perhaps it was simply the other side of his heritage, or maybe he simply did the opposite of his parent as so many young people did, but Nathaniel became organized. He began to train his body and his mind, and discovered he had several unusual gifts

For a start, he could speak to the spirits of the dead. That was a little surprising.

One day, when he was sixteen or so, his mother simply didn’t return. He was never sure if she simply didn’t return. Nathaniel was never sure if something happened, or if she simply forgot for long enough that he left before her return. Either way, the young man went into the world to see what he could do.

Having learned the basics of fighting and divine magic, he came across an odd little village where the people seemed...off. They certainly weren’t welcoming of strangers, and didn’t want his help. Nathaniel moved on. But as he travelled the area, he kept hearing strange rumours about the town. People vanishing, odd lights at night, things like that. His interest peaked, he returned to the town, and began to investigate.

In the caves beneath the town, it turned out the problem was Deep Ones. The town people above were Hybrids, and the missing people were...well, there were Hybrids for a reason. Nathaniel recruited several others and freed the town, but was stabbed with an odd artifact in the thigh. The wound scaled over, rather than scarred, reducing Nathaniel’s ability to walk and leaving him with a limp.

Since he was slower to move, Nathaniel began to investigate other weapons and religion. He was drawn to Zohls, having heard the name before. Studying her ideals, he found her to be quite close to his own methods, and after several months he became a Paladin in her service. He also took to using a new weapon - guns, rather than the crossbows favoured by Zohls. He expecially favoured a scaled down variation of the Hackbutt, as despite the difficulty in aiming the additional damage was useful.

Nathaniel continued to adventure, although slowed by his maimed leg, and dealt with an number of problems. But life took a tole on him. More scars soon joined the former, and he buried friends and allies along the way. He did a lot of good...but there was always more evil. It began to feel like all he was doing was taking drops from the ocean and hoping to see change.

An encounter with devils controlling a town served to further depress the Paladin. The devils sought to take control of a small snippet of reality. Once again the Paladin went into the situation to try and help, but the Devils used his own doubts and exhaustion against him. In a moment of hopeless he almost broke his word, and found that he no longer. Not without being sickened to his guts. Lies were not part of Zohls domain…

Nathaniel continued to fight, and finally defeated the devils with a little help from a divine silver shot. But exhausted and bitter at being chastised, he started to seek another life, one where he could live more peacefully.

Eventually he met a partner, and fell in love. But having been a servant of the Gods for more than a decade he had made enemies. And now, he had something to loose…

Nathaniel fought, with a bitter determination and a devastating lack of mercy. Although he would not harm an innocent, or even let one be harmed, anyone who took up arms against his family was his enemy, and he was not offering chances to surrender.

But one man can only do so much damage to a suitably determined foe, and Nathaniel eventually lost.

But sometimes, in the corner of his eye, he would see someone...and feel a touch.

Lost and alone, tired without any way to rest, Thrice-Cursed Nathaniel now walks the earth, righting wrongs where he can and looking for some peace.