Member
Konan375Annnnd done!
"A patient man on his knees can rise. A proud man who fights against impossible odds only dies."
Race: Breton
Sex: Female
Age: 25
Family Origins: Wayrest, Highrock
Birth Sign: The Mage
Appearance: Standing at 5ft 6in (1.6 M), Nanine's storm grey eyes are usually flicking about, memorizing and storing images to later recreate in her journal. Her features are what most would describe as noble, a small straight nose, pale lips, luxurious black hair, and generally delicate features. This is only marred by the small scar on her eyebrow, a gentle reminder of a near death experience and the dangers of obsession. Two blue pearl earrings mark her only jewelry, as well cared for as her hair.
In heavy armor her hair is usually kept in a tight braid, keeping it from flying loose.
When outside of her heavy armor, Nani prefers to wear fur lined leather, resisting Skyrim's all pervasive cold. Her hair is kept loose and flowing, as she enjoys showing it off. She prefers soft blues, and most of her cloth reflects that. These clothes show a hardened, muscular figure with little to no fat and no curves. While still womanly, years of hard training and combat have minimized any feminine features.
Equipment:
-Steel Plate Armor
-Ebony Longsword (The Risen Blade): Her family's blade. Inscribed upon the blade is her family's words We Rise. The handle is wrapped with black, worn leather. A battered sheathe of similarly dark leather hides it from the world. Nanine doesn't want undue attention. If someone were to look at it magically, they would see layers upon layers of enchantments upon it. Decades, if not centuries worth of them. They are all designed for preservation, keeping the edge sharp, the blade strong, and keep it from breaking. It is incredibly durable, resisting intense punishment, but beyond preservation it's a normal blade.
-Steel Dagger
-2 Magicka potions
-2 Greater Health potions
-Earrings enchanted with minor magicka
Misc. Possessions:
-An old book of stories from across the world, well worn and endlessly read. Nanine can recite them by heart.
-Two journals, one filled completely with drawings and story ideas, the other less than a quarter filled with them.
-One copy of Enchanter's Primer
-Two quills and two inkwells.
-A small sack filled with petty and lesser soul gems. Nanine uses them to practice.
-One Black Soul Gem. Unused.
-A small sack of various dried fruits and meats, tied to her hip.
Family And Associates
Brulius Tilhart: Father, deceased.
Lelle Tilhart: Mother, deceased.
Fenacois Tilhart: Uncle, presumed dead.
Willnven Tilhart: Brother, missing.
Favoured Skills:
Highly Proficient
Destruction-Her father's quest, and her time in the Imperial Legion as a Battle Mage, both in the Skyrim Civil War and the few years following, have sharpened her, already naturally impressive, skills and power with destructive spells too a deadly point. She is precise and purposeful with her spells. It is rare that Nani misses her target due to her own mistakes.
Conjuration-As with everything, Nani prefers to have an advantage in battle. She finds that there are many ways to give herself and her allies said advantage, from simply summoning another being to fight on her side, to horrifying the enemy through resurrecting their fallen allies or summoning shambling monsters to scare them, Nani can and will use all of these tactics to her advantage, though it has earned her more enemies than friends. Due to the taboo nature of spells such as necromancy, she avoids using it amongst large groups and without warning, lest it cause a panic.
Moderately Proficient
One-handed: Blade-Due to her time in the Legion, and her father's doomed crusade, Nani is no stranger to combat and death. Be it with her family sword or her dagger, she can hold her own in a fight. While she is no blade master, she is well trained.
Heavy Armor-After years of training and using heavy armor, Nani has gotten used to moving in and wearing her armor for extended periods of time, though she much prefers to be out of it.
Somewhat Proficient
Enchantment-Nani became a camp favorite with her fellow Legionnaires, able to increase their protection of their armor or the damage of their weapons, every night she could. She received a seemingly unending supply of Soul Gems, the Legion eager to keep their enchanters well supplied for the war effort, and as such is minorly experienced in enchanting, though she freely admits she needs much more practice (and often leaps at any opportunity to do so)
History:
House Tilhart can trace it's lineage all the way back to before the times of Tiber Septim. One of the first families of High Rock to declare support for the Emperor of Tamriel, they fought valiantly at his side to unite High Rock. One of their own members even saved the Emperor's life, standing and fighting valiantly at his side as magical fire raged around them, and refusing to retreat or fall despite great wounds. Once the battle was over, their ancestor and Tiber Septim the last two standing, the Emperor bade the Tilhart to kneel. He declared House Tilhart a noble family of High Rock, gave them lands of their own, and an Ebony blade from his own armory. His words inspired the family motto of House Tilhart, and have given them courage and purpose to for generations. "Rise, Tilhart, and fight for you Emperor once more."
Or so the story goes, at any rate. In reality, House Tilhart can only prove two things. One, their family sword is from Tiber Septim's era, and it has very strong preservative enchantments that few modern mages could produce. Two, their family sided with the Septim Empire at some point. Everything else is very likely a story made up by the ancient members of the house in an attempt to build its reputation and influence. Still, every member of House Tilhart, especially Nanine, believes in that story with every part of their being. The family is fiercely loyal to the Empire, almost every single one of its members having served in the Imperial army at some point, and they have supported all of its decisions throughout the various eras. Such a fierce and undying loyalty is polarizing to their local Breton's, however, and has resulted in some questionable practices arising among them.
First is their practice of Necromancy. An open secret, but House Tilhart believes that once the spirit has left the body, there is nothing sacred left. It's just a corpse, ready to be used to further the needs of the house or the Empire. Their retinue's and soldiers are regularly resurrected on the field of battle, rising again to fight on. Knowing how stigmatized the act of Necromancy is, however, the House tends to limit it to their own soldiers and their enemies.
Secondly, anyone who wields The Risen Blade must, upon feeling themselves dying, cast soul trap upon themselves and trap their souls into a black soul gem. That gem will then be used to power the enchantments upon the sword. Dozens, if not hundreds, of House Tilhart wielders have given their lives this way. It is not always a sure thing, after all a black soul gem can be lost in the heat of battle, or someone can die before they even have a chance, but they all try.
This was the family Nanine was born into, this was the fierce loyalty, purpose, and dedication she was surrounded with from birth. For Nanine there was never any thought in her head. She was going to folow in her father's footsteps and loyally serve the Empire, facing down any foes that dared oppose it. From the rumors she heard her father and uncle quietly talking about, a second war with the Dominion was brewing. Nanine was excited. She too would face down the fury of the elves, and return not only alive, but a hero. The idea burned brightly in her mind as a child, driving her.
As soon as she was able, she was being trained in magic and how to wield it effectively by her father. She has only vague memories of her mother, as she died giving birth to Nanine's brother only a year later. But her father, grandparents, and uncle were there for them. They trained her and her brother, cared for them, and helped shape them into the perfect imperial battle mages. Nani couldn't tell you how many hours she spent in her family's library, studying the tomes of magic. Tomes of how to bend the elements to your will, and of how to summon aid from the Oblivion Planes. She loved it, learning the hows and whys behind all of her magic and power. She delighted in learning about the Daedra and their politics, using their servants to aid them.
Nanine was happy during this time. The training was rigorous, but not unnecessarily brutal. She was surrounded by friends and family, she and her brother were close, and she was going to see the world and help bring order with the Empire when she grew up.
Of course, that all was cast aside and destroyed when the corsairs attacked Wayrest.
She doesn't remember much of the build up to that fateful day, being only five years old and most of her focus on her books. Only her father arguing quietly with her grandfather, her uncle pacing nervously, and the air of tension that seemed to permeate the city. Things were bad. Political upheaval seemed on the horizon, and no one knew who was going to make the first move. That choice was made for them when the attack began.
Of the the attack itself, she only saw the end of it. Flames glowing outside the walls of their estate as she and her brother were hurriedly dressed and packed, servants running to and fro in near panic. Her father and uncle were arguing with her grandparents, gesturing back towards Nanine and her brother in agitation as the latter two stood in their armor, unmovable and unswayed by the words being said. Finally her grandfather cut them both off.
Nanine could barely make out his words. "Enough! You will escape. We will hold them. Now go." Her grandfather handed her father The Risen Blade and without another word, they turned on their heels and headed to the walls, bellowing for the guardsman and retinue. Her father and uncle angrily and despairingly turned, grabbing Nanine and her brother and heading for the back of the estate. By this time her grandparents were on the walls, and the corsairs were at the gate. She can still perfectly recall the roars of defiance from her grandparents and the house guards, punctuated by slamming their swords on their shields.
"For the Jewel of the Bay!"
"WE RISE."
"For the Emperor and his Empire!"
"WE RISE."
"For House Tilhart!"
"WE RISE."
"Against these murderous dogs!"
"WE RISE."
"WE RISE!"
"WE RISE!"
The last surviving members of House Tilhart, and it seemed like of all the nobility in Wayrest, escaped to a small holding on the edge of Menevia, farther than the corsairs would be willing to chase them. Once there, her father and uncle ordered a rest and everyone fell into a deep, exhausted, rest. They had lost their homes, their families, their friends. They all needed this rest now. Nanine and her brother held each other as they lay on their bed, not even bothering to remove their shoes. They didn't know what had happened, why their grandparents were gone, or why they had to be hear. They needed time to rest, process, and grieve. But her father wasn't going to give them that. The next day, her father was up making preparations, sending out what little resources he had. He expected to have an army from their various allies and contacts to reclaim Wayrest within a few months, before the corsairs could have time to unify and dig in.
It took 12 years before they had an army large enough to lay siege to Wayrest. Their old allies in High Rock had turned their back on them, squabbling pettily among themselves. The Empire couldn't send any aid, weakened by the Great War and embroiled in subduing the Nords in Skyrim as they were. All of her father's old legion friends were either stationed far away or long dead, unable to help in anything but spirit. Upon hearing the news that the Empire refused to aid them, her father merely nodded. "If we are not strong enough to rid our home of filthy pirates, then we are definitely not strong enough to serve the Empire. House Tilhart will stand on its own, and prove its strength."
So her father put his head down, and started attempting to make his own alliances, both within and without of High Rock. Mercenaries were hired, peasants were levied, and promises were made to various commanders. Her and her brother's training increased, becoming harsher and more demanding. They had to be ready, her father would always tell them, for the corsairs wouldn't show them any mercy. He put pressure and responsibilities on them, pushing them to grow up fast and be ready even faster. Some would claim he put too much responsibility and pressure, obsessed with reclaiming Wayrest. Nanine and her brother were concerned, frightened even, by the sudden intensity, feverish obsession, in their father's eyes. But they dared not question him about it. That only resulted in ever harsher training and them being screamed at.
When her brother was 16, he was sent to the Skyrim orc holds and Orisium itself. Her father needed someone to rekindle the ancient alliance between the orcs and Wayrest, forging a bond even stronger than before. He couldn't trust anyone else, and gave the task to her brother. Her father was counting on that army to be the elite force he needed. Her brother was never heard from again. Her father didn't even give a day too mourn. He kept pushing, changing his plans and forging ahead with almost a feverish desire. Nanine became even more worried, more concerned, and she wasn't the only one. This was devouring her father, quickly becoming the only thing in the world he cared about. Anytime someone would try to talk to him, however, they would receive a harsh rebuke and be sent onto another task. With nothing left to do, Nanine, her uncle, and her father's remaining retainers could do nothing but go along with the plan and pray for the best.
When her father had deemed gathered enough soldiers and power, he marched triumphantly back to Wayrest. Nanine and her uncle were at his side, less confident about their chances of success. Their army was little more than ambitious peasants, greedy mercenaries, and naive young fools. They doubted that against the ruthless corsairs their motley force would stand much of a chance. Seeing no way to alter her father's mind, and refusing to abandon him, they kept their reservations to themselves, and stuck to tradition, marching with her father. Whatever would happen, they would be by his side. House Tilhart remained loyal, even against impossible odds. When the walls of Wayrest came into sight, her father wept openly. "We've come home, Nani. And now we will reclaim it." They laid siege to the city, set camp for the night, and prepared for a battle at dawn.
They never even got that far.
Corsairs had slipped up the river and landed behind their army. They quietly slipped into the perimeter that her father had set up, killing the guards. Once they had spread throughout most of the camp, they set fire to everything within reach. Mass panic and chaos ensued. The Corsairs inside Wayrest were waiting for the flames, marching out to attack as soon as they appeared. I an hour, her father's army was crushed. Nanine, her father, and her uncle were all taken prisoner with dozens of others before they could even draw upon their magic. They were taken inside the city, and thrown into prison. Surprisingly, they were left with their weapons and armor. Seeing the surprise on Nanine's face, her guards merely laughed. "Where will you go? You're in our city now, girl, and the Pirate-Lord wants to make an entertaining example out of you."
Within a day, they had gone from leading an army to being imprisoned in their own city's cells. They were all thrown in individual cells, leaving Nanine alone in a dark prison. She was left four a few hours, till the afternoon, trapped in the dark, muttering prayers to the Bretonian Pantheon for at the very least a quick death. She didn't put up a fight when they came for her, quietly listening as they described how slowly they would kill her and her family if she tried anything as they took her from her cell and into a blinding light. Thrown into a cart with two others and taken through the city. After getting used to the blinding light, she looked at her companions they were her father and her uncle, both alive and relatively unharmed. Nani, relieved and happy, hugged them both as the citizenry around them jeered and mocked.
Her father was quiet, staring listlessly out of the cells of the cart. Nanine's heart ached to see the broken look in his eyes, where once their had been a burning fire. He remained that way till they reached their destination, a crude arena put together in the years they had gone by. The flames seemed smolder in his eyes once more, and muttered something about 'damned pirates ruining our city' as they were taken from the cart, lead towards what they only assumed was their execution block. To their surprise, rather than an executioner's blade, they were thrown into the arena, and it was announced that for their crimes against Wayrest (the three of them snorted at this) they would fight an endless horde of enemies and criminals until they died in this pit.
The first group was five ragged, starved bandits. They could barely walk, much less put up a fight. It saddened and sickened Nanine to kill them in such a manner, as mere entertainment for savages, but it was either she killed them or they killed her. And she didn't want to die in this pit. The next group was more fit, healthier, but still emaciated. Deserters, perhaps. Or maybe a few who had gone against the so called 'Pirate-Lord'. They fell like the others. And so it went, each group coming out to kill them being healthier and better equipped then the last. Nanine and her family refrained from using magic. They didn't need to, and it was an edge that they could use later on. As the gate opened for the tenth time, Nanine and her family suddenly froze. Walking from the other side of the arena was what remained of their houseguards and retinue. These men and women weren't just random peasants or mercenaries hired to fight the corsairs. These were people who had loyally served them for years, some of them even decades. These were practically family.
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena, silencing the crowd. "Welcome to your final event! If you manage to kill the other side, you will get to go free and scamper away with your lives! If not, well, obviously, you will die like the dogs you a-"
"No." Her father's voice rang out, increased by magic, silencing the announcer and the excited babble of the crowd. "We are the last members of House Tilhart, the true rulers of Wayrest. We do not kill our own." The crowd laughed. "You have taken our homes, our lives, and our freedom from us. We have fallen low, and lost much. But we will survive. We will rebuild." Flames gathered in her father's palms, and he brought them together, continuing his speech. People were beginning to get worried, shuffling backwards. The guards were reaching for arrows."We will do what we always do." The flames were burning bright, writhing in his palms as if they were eager to be released. Arrows slammed into him, piercing his armor, as the guards tried to kill them before his spell could go off. Her father stumbled, keeping his voice strong, if pained. "We will rise. And you will fall." Her father shot his fire ball directly at the crude wall to their left, exploding in a hellish inferno.
Nanine ran to her father as smoke and screams rose into the sky, everyone trying to escape in a panic as the wooden arena began to burn. He was fading, puking blood, dying in front of her. He had used up magicka reserves he didn't have, and now his body was paying the price. He pushed her off as she tried to help him, forcing her to stand to the side. As she watched, he pulled the Risen Blade from his sheathe and laid it on the ground, casting one last spell on himself. He fumbled with a pouch around his neck, finally pulling something free. A black soul gem tumbled from his rapidly weakening hands, landing next to the Blade. He looked up at Nanine and smiled, the light rapidly fading from his eyes. "Rise, Nani. Rise." With that, her father fell dead in front of her. The black soul gem shone with inner fire.
She didn't have time to grieve, to truly react to what had happened. Her uncle was yelling at her from the hole her father had made, and the Corsair's were rapidly organizing. She snatched up her father's soul gem and the Risen Blade, and ran for it. She and her uncle sprinted for the nearest city wall. If they could just get away, they could make it. Guards were running to and fro, the city was panicking as they attempted to battle the flames. In the chaos she and her uncle got separated, him leading off a band of guards as she ran on. Nanine barely escaped that city, the fire spreading rapidly and providing enough chaos for her to get out. Nanine escaped along the river, eventually collapsing in a cave and falling into a deep sleep. Getting up the next day, she added her father's soul to the Risen Blade. It was what her family had done for generations, and what her father expected of her.
She picked herself up and started walking away, sobbing as she did so. She didn't have time to properly grieve. She had to leave, before the Corsair's sent out search parties. She could only hope and pray her uncle and others had survived, and would make their way back to the small holding where they had started. Nanine knew the way, having memorized and drawn it as she went, and she was there within a month. There was no one. It was as empty as they had left it, expecting to set up in Wayrest after their victory. She couldn't just leave. Her uncle might still be alive, on his way to the holding.
So Nanine stayed at the empty hold, eating what sparse food they had left. For another two months Nanine stayed there, reading the books in the library, practicing her spells, and slowly eating the food left. When it ran out, she had no choice. If her uncle was still alive he would have gotten to the holding now. He was dead, along with the rest of her family. Nanine didn't cry, having quietly accepted this possibility early into her waiting.
She wasn't going to try to reclaim Wayrest. It was what her father would have expected of her, but he was dead, and so was everyone else. The Tilharts were finished, and the damned pirates were welcome to Wayrest. With no food, no family, no reason to stay in the empty hold, and only the armor on her back and the blade in her hand to her name, Nanine didn't know where to go. The rest of High Rock would only seek to use her against their enemies, as a pawn in their games. She didn't know anything about the rest of Tamriel, and she certainly didn't have any supplies or materials to actually survive a long trip out of High Rock.
With nothing left to do, and her food run out, Nanine fell back on tradition. She joined the Imperial Legion. It took her a month to get to the nearest barracks and recruitment station of the Legion, following the road and direction of the local villages she came across. She spent a sparse few months being trained, as she had already been trained in the art of war by her father, and then was sent on to the nearest front of the Legion: Skyrim.
It was towards the tail end of the war, as the Legion was continuing to make gains against Ulfric and his Stormcloaks. Being a mage of considerable power and no stranger, Nanine was immediately sent into the front lines. She enjoyed it, losing herself in the fight for Skyrim, in the knowledge that she was apart of something bigger than herself, and that she was helping restore order. It gave her a sense of comfort and purpose. She fought all across Skyrim during those months, raining fire and lightning down upon the Empire's foes. One week she would be in Markarth, defending the town from the Stormcloaks. The next she'd be seizing a fort in the wilderness, claiming it for the Empire.
After the war was over, Windhelm seized and the rebellion crushed, she remained in the Legion for another three years, cleaning up the mess that was Skyrim. Forts were reclaimed from bandits, rogue magic users, and Stormcloak holdouts. Caves were cleared of Falmer, Vampires, and even more bandits. Eventually, Nanine felt that she was doing no more good in Skryim, or in the Legion, her purpose there fulfilled. She had moved on from her family's death, and grown into her own person. She left the army, becoming an adventurer and bodyguard for hire.
That is how she got onto this expedition, hired on by Rhea Valerius to help defend the expedition from any attacks.
Personality: Nanine is proud of her heritage and family, at times to the point of arrogance. She is the last of a noble house, and she isn't going to forget it. However, she is also aware that her childhood and experience is the vast minority of all of Tamriel. Up until the corsair siege, she was one of the luckiest, and even afterwards she was considerably fortunate. She tries to keep her pride balanced by practicality, but fails at times.
That pride extends to her sword, of which she is fiercely protective of, to the point of irrationality. She doesn't trust anyone else with it, and sleeps with it at her side. There have been several times where she's risked her life to save the Risen Blade, much to the surprise and incredulity of her allies.
When it comes to maintaining things, (her hair, her books, her equipment, etc etc) Nani is a ritualistic person. She does things a certain way, in a certain order, and it helps her relax. She has enough chaos in her life, she doesn't need extra added by her own actions.
When Nanine is at a difficult decision and can't find the right way to go, no matter which way she looks at it, she'll fall back on the tradition of her family. Emphasis on loyalty and doing what's best for the Empire. It hasn't lead her astray yet, and she prays it never will.
Deeply inquisitive, especially of magic, Nani leaps at the opportunity to learn something new. It doesn't matter if it's an utterly useless piece of information, she will appreciate and enjoy it. She could listen for hours to a potter, a blacksmith, a shoemaker, or any expert on anything. This is part of the reason why she signed onto the expedition, as the Dwemer are an unknown factor to her and incredibly intriguing.
Whenever she's drawing, or focusing on something particularly hard, Nani has a tendency to block the world out and unconsciously plays with her magic. Fire swirls around in her palm, lighting twitches between her finger tips, etc etc. She's not sure what it does, but it helps her concentrate. In general, she finds magic deeply comforting, reaching out to it and her connection with it in times of fear, anger, or worry, soothing herself.
She strives to be cheerful and easy going, having had enough of strife and tension amongst allies in her life to last her until the day she dies. Forever an optimist, Nanine is always looking for the silver lining. The alternative is a dark path that she is scared to travel down.
At times, Nanine will find someone or something particularly interesting, powerful, or beautiful, and strive to commit it to her memory (despite not needing anything more then a glance). This leads to her unconsciously staring at someone or something for minutes on end, attempting to commit every minuscule detail. When asked or prodded about it, she'll snap back to reality and get deeply embarrassed.
Misc.:
-Nani has photographic memory, allowing her to recall people, objects, and places she's seen in perfect detail. She uses this to draw images of events or things she's seen from memory, filling her journals with sights both wondrous and tragic.
-Nani has a large knowledge of the Daedra (from Lord to servant), having studied them extensively as a child.
-Having been at it from the age of five, Nani is very good at drawing and painting when she's got the chance. She prefers to draw things she's seen, rather than from her imagination, recreating them in her journals in flawless detail.
-She wants to write her own book, but is struggling with a story idea and where to start.
-Nanine can't carry a tune to save her life and has a bad singing voice, something she is acutely aware of. Whenever group singing comes around, she contents her self to quiet muttering or humming. Unless she is drunk, that is. Then she will shamelessly belt out the lyrics in her horrid voice, much to the regret of those around her and her own regret after she wakes up.
-Nanine hates pirates (and by extension bandits) with every fiber of her being. They took everything from her, and in her eyes all of them are murderous bastards who only deserve to be put to the sword.
-Nani, despite their inability to aid her father, has utter faith in the Empire. They are the source of Order in Tamriel, and firmly believes that without them being strong the world will descend into chaos.
-Nanine is a very light sleeper, a habit she developed after the disaster that was her father's crusade, and several ambushes by Stormcloaks.
WARNING LOTS OF BABBY COW PICTURES.
I present to you, baby cow warily circles my outstretched hand, gets distracted by dog, then runs away after working up the courage to briefly boop my hand.
Nanine 'Nani' Tilhart
"A patient man on his knees can rise. A proud man who fights against impossible odds only dies."
Race: Breton
Sex: Female
Age: 25
Family Origins: Wayrest, Highrock
Birth Sign: The Mage
Appearance: Standing at 5ft 6in (1.6 M), Nanine's storm grey eyes are usually flicking about, memorizing and storing images to later recreate in her journal. Her features are what most would describe as noble, a small straight nose, pale lips, luxurious black hair, and generally delicate features. This is only marred by the small scar on her eyebrow, a gentle reminder of a near death experience and the dangers of obsession. Two blue pearl earrings mark her only jewelry, as well cared for as her hair.
In heavy armor her hair is usually kept in a tight braid, keeping it from flying loose.
When outside of her heavy armor, Nani prefers to wear fur lined leather, resisting Skyrim's all pervasive cold. Her hair is kept loose and flowing, as she enjoys showing it off. She prefers soft blues, and most of her cloth reflects that. These clothes show a hardened, muscular figure with little to no fat and no curves. While still womanly, years of hard training and combat have minimized any feminine features.
Equipment:
-Steel Plate Armor
-Ebony Longsword (The Risen Blade): Her family's blade. Inscribed upon the blade is her family's words We Rise. The handle is wrapped with black, worn leather. A battered sheathe of similarly dark leather hides it from the world. Nanine doesn't want undue attention. If someone were to look at it magically, they would see layers upon layers of enchantments upon it. Decades, if not centuries worth of them. They are all designed for preservation, keeping the edge sharp, the blade strong, and keep it from breaking. It is incredibly durable, resisting intense punishment, but beyond preservation it's a normal blade.
-Steel Dagger
-2 Magicka potions
-2 Greater Health potions
-Earrings enchanted with minor magicka
Misc. Possessions:
-An old book of stories from across the world, well worn and endlessly read. Nanine can recite them by heart.
-Two journals, one filled completely with drawings and story ideas, the other less than a quarter filled with them.
-One copy of Enchanter's Primer
-Two quills and two inkwells.
-A small sack filled with petty and lesser soul gems. Nanine uses them to practice.
-One Black Soul Gem. Unused.
-A small sack of various dried fruits and meats, tied to her hip.
Family And Associates
Brulius Tilhart: Father, deceased.
Lelle Tilhart: Mother, deceased.
Fenacois Tilhart: Uncle, presumed dead.
Willnven Tilhart: Brother, missing.
Favoured Skills:
Highly Proficient
Destruction-Her father's quest, and her time in the Imperial Legion as a Battle Mage, both in the Skyrim Civil War and the few years following, have sharpened her, already naturally impressive, skills and power with destructive spells too a deadly point. She is precise and purposeful with her spells. It is rare that Nani misses her target due to her own mistakes.
Conjuration-As with everything, Nani prefers to have an advantage in battle. She finds that there are many ways to give herself and her allies said advantage, from simply summoning another being to fight on her side, to horrifying the enemy through resurrecting their fallen allies or summoning shambling monsters to scare them, Nani can and will use all of these tactics to her advantage, though it has earned her more enemies than friends. Due to the taboo nature of spells such as necromancy, she avoids using it amongst large groups and without warning, lest it cause a panic.
Moderately Proficient
One-handed: Blade-Due to her time in the Legion, and her father's doomed crusade, Nani is no stranger to combat and death. Be it with her family sword or her dagger, she can hold her own in a fight. While she is no blade master, she is well trained.
Heavy Armor-After years of training and using heavy armor, Nani has gotten used to moving in and wearing her armor for extended periods of time, though she much prefers to be out of it.
Somewhat Proficient
Enchantment-Nani became a camp favorite with her fellow Legionnaires, able to increase their protection of their armor or the damage of their weapons, every night she could. She received a seemingly unending supply of Soul Gems, the Legion eager to keep their enchanters well supplied for the war effort, and as such is minorly experienced in enchanting, though she freely admits she needs much more practice (and often leaps at any opportunity to do so)
Spell List:
- Disintegrate: Nani can either cast this with oneas a single bolt (similar to fire bolt) destroying anything metal on a single target, or she can cast this with both hands (similar to fireball) creating a blast that begins to destroy metal in a 15 foot radius. (This spell is essentially a less specific version of the various corrode armor and weapons spells from Oblivion, focusing on metal in general rather than just weapons and armor)
- Thunderbolt
- Flames
- Incinerate
- Summon Storm Atronarch
- Summon Frost Atronarch
- Necromancy: Raise dead: Nani is powerful enough in this spell that she can raise up to a 8 corpses to fight for her (it should be noted that with that many resurrected, unless she drinks a magicka potion she won't be able to cast any more spells, and certainly isn't able to summon other creatures even if she drinks a potion.)
- Soul Trap
History:
House Tilhart can trace it's lineage all the way back to before the times of Tiber Septim. One of the first families of High Rock to declare support for the Emperor of Tamriel, they fought valiantly at his side to unite High Rock. One of their own members even saved the Emperor's life, standing and fighting valiantly at his side as magical fire raged around them, and refusing to retreat or fall despite great wounds. Once the battle was over, their ancestor and Tiber Septim the last two standing, the Emperor bade the Tilhart to kneel. He declared House Tilhart a noble family of High Rock, gave them lands of their own, and an Ebony blade from his own armory. His words inspired the family motto of House Tilhart, and have given them courage and purpose to for generations. "Rise, Tilhart, and fight for you Emperor once more."
Or so the story goes, at any rate. In reality, House Tilhart can only prove two things. One, their family sword is from Tiber Septim's era, and it has very strong preservative enchantments that few modern mages could produce. Two, their family sided with the Septim Empire at some point. Everything else is very likely a story made up by the ancient members of the house in an attempt to build its reputation and influence. Still, every member of House Tilhart, especially Nanine, believes in that story with every part of their being. The family is fiercely loyal to the Empire, almost every single one of its members having served in the Imperial army at some point, and they have supported all of its decisions throughout the various eras. Such a fierce and undying loyalty is polarizing to their local Breton's, however, and has resulted in some questionable practices arising among them.
First is their practice of Necromancy. An open secret, but House Tilhart believes that once the spirit has left the body, there is nothing sacred left. It's just a corpse, ready to be used to further the needs of the house or the Empire. Their retinue's and soldiers are regularly resurrected on the field of battle, rising again to fight on. Knowing how stigmatized the act of Necromancy is, however, the House tends to limit it to their own soldiers and their enemies.
Secondly, anyone who wields The Risen Blade must, upon feeling themselves dying, cast soul trap upon themselves and trap their souls into a black soul gem. That gem will then be used to power the enchantments upon the sword. Dozens, if not hundreds, of House Tilhart wielders have given their lives this way. It is not always a sure thing, after all a black soul gem can be lost in the heat of battle, or someone can die before they even have a chance, but they all try.
This was the family Nanine was born into, this was the fierce loyalty, purpose, and dedication she was surrounded with from birth. For Nanine there was never any thought in her head. She was going to folow in her father's footsteps and loyally serve the Empire, facing down any foes that dared oppose it. From the rumors she heard her father and uncle quietly talking about, a second war with the Dominion was brewing. Nanine was excited. She too would face down the fury of the elves, and return not only alive, but a hero. The idea burned brightly in her mind as a child, driving her.
As soon as she was able, she was being trained in magic and how to wield it effectively by her father. She has only vague memories of her mother, as she died giving birth to Nanine's brother only a year later. But her father, grandparents, and uncle were there for them. They trained her and her brother, cared for them, and helped shape them into the perfect imperial battle mages. Nani couldn't tell you how many hours she spent in her family's library, studying the tomes of magic. Tomes of how to bend the elements to your will, and of how to summon aid from the Oblivion Planes. She loved it, learning the hows and whys behind all of her magic and power. She delighted in learning about the Daedra and their politics, using their servants to aid them.
Nanine was happy during this time. The training was rigorous, but not unnecessarily brutal. She was surrounded by friends and family, she and her brother were close, and she was going to see the world and help bring order with the Empire when she grew up.
Of course, that all was cast aside and destroyed when the corsairs attacked Wayrest.
She doesn't remember much of the build up to that fateful day, being only five years old and most of her focus on her books. Only her father arguing quietly with her grandfather, her uncle pacing nervously, and the air of tension that seemed to permeate the city. Things were bad. Political upheaval seemed on the horizon, and no one knew who was going to make the first move. That choice was made for them when the attack began.
Of the the attack itself, she only saw the end of it. Flames glowing outside the walls of their estate as she and her brother were hurriedly dressed and packed, servants running to and fro in near panic. Her father and uncle were arguing with her grandparents, gesturing back towards Nanine and her brother in agitation as the latter two stood in their armor, unmovable and unswayed by the words being said. Finally her grandfather cut them both off.
Nanine could barely make out his words. "Enough! You will escape. We will hold them. Now go." Her grandfather handed her father The Risen Blade and without another word, they turned on their heels and headed to the walls, bellowing for the guardsman and retinue. Her father and uncle angrily and despairingly turned, grabbing Nanine and her brother and heading for the back of the estate. By this time her grandparents were on the walls, and the corsairs were at the gate. She can still perfectly recall the roars of defiance from her grandparents and the house guards, punctuated by slamming their swords on their shields.
"For the Jewel of the Bay!"
"WE RISE."
"For the Emperor and his Empire!"
"WE RISE."
"For House Tilhart!"
"WE RISE."
"Against these murderous dogs!"
"WE RISE."
"WE RISE!"
"WE RISE!"
The last surviving members of House Tilhart, and it seemed like of all the nobility in Wayrest, escaped to a small holding on the edge of Menevia, farther than the corsairs would be willing to chase them. Once there, her father and uncle ordered a rest and everyone fell into a deep, exhausted, rest. They had lost their homes, their families, their friends. They all needed this rest now. Nanine and her brother held each other as they lay on their bed, not even bothering to remove their shoes. They didn't know what had happened, why their grandparents were gone, or why they had to be hear. They needed time to rest, process, and grieve. But her father wasn't going to give them that. The next day, her father was up making preparations, sending out what little resources he had. He expected to have an army from their various allies and contacts to reclaim Wayrest within a few months, before the corsairs could have time to unify and dig in.
It took 12 years before they had an army large enough to lay siege to Wayrest. Their old allies in High Rock had turned their back on them, squabbling pettily among themselves. The Empire couldn't send any aid, weakened by the Great War and embroiled in subduing the Nords in Skyrim as they were. All of her father's old legion friends were either stationed far away or long dead, unable to help in anything but spirit. Upon hearing the news that the Empire refused to aid them, her father merely nodded. "If we are not strong enough to rid our home of filthy pirates, then we are definitely not strong enough to serve the Empire. House Tilhart will stand on its own, and prove its strength."
So her father put his head down, and started attempting to make his own alliances, both within and without of High Rock. Mercenaries were hired, peasants were levied, and promises were made to various commanders. Her and her brother's training increased, becoming harsher and more demanding. They had to be ready, her father would always tell them, for the corsairs wouldn't show them any mercy. He put pressure and responsibilities on them, pushing them to grow up fast and be ready even faster. Some would claim he put too much responsibility and pressure, obsessed with reclaiming Wayrest. Nanine and her brother were concerned, frightened even, by the sudden intensity, feverish obsession, in their father's eyes. But they dared not question him about it. That only resulted in ever harsher training and them being screamed at.
When her brother was 16, he was sent to the Skyrim orc holds and Orisium itself. Her father needed someone to rekindle the ancient alliance between the orcs and Wayrest, forging a bond even stronger than before. He couldn't trust anyone else, and gave the task to her brother. Her father was counting on that army to be the elite force he needed. Her brother was never heard from again. Her father didn't even give a day too mourn. He kept pushing, changing his plans and forging ahead with almost a feverish desire. Nanine became even more worried, more concerned, and she wasn't the only one. This was devouring her father, quickly becoming the only thing in the world he cared about. Anytime someone would try to talk to him, however, they would receive a harsh rebuke and be sent onto another task. With nothing left to do, Nanine, her uncle, and her father's remaining retainers could do nothing but go along with the plan and pray for the best.
When her father had deemed gathered enough soldiers and power, he marched triumphantly back to Wayrest. Nanine and her uncle were at his side, less confident about their chances of success. Their army was little more than ambitious peasants, greedy mercenaries, and naive young fools. They doubted that against the ruthless corsairs their motley force would stand much of a chance. Seeing no way to alter her father's mind, and refusing to abandon him, they kept their reservations to themselves, and stuck to tradition, marching with her father. Whatever would happen, they would be by his side. House Tilhart remained loyal, even against impossible odds. When the walls of Wayrest came into sight, her father wept openly. "We've come home, Nani. And now we will reclaim it." They laid siege to the city, set camp for the night, and prepared for a battle at dawn.
They never even got that far.
Corsairs had slipped up the river and landed behind their army. They quietly slipped into the perimeter that her father had set up, killing the guards. Once they had spread throughout most of the camp, they set fire to everything within reach. Mass panic and chaos ensued. The Corsairs inside Wayrest were waiting for the flames, marching out to attack as soon as they appeared. I an hour, her father's army was crushed. Nanine, her father, and her uncle were all taken prisoner with dozens of others before they could even draw upon their magic. They were taken inside the city, and thrown into prison. Surprisingly, they were left with their weapons and armor. Seeing the surprise on Nanine's face, her guards merely laughed. "Where will you go? You're in our city now, girl, and the Pirate-Lord wants to make an entertaining example out of you."
Within a day, they had gone from leading an army to being imprisoned in their own city's cells. They were all thrown in individual cells, leaving Nanine alone in a dark prison. She was left four a few hours, till the afternoon, trapped in the dark, muttering prayers to the Bretonian Pantheon for at the very least a quick death. She didn't put up a fight when they came for her, quietly listening as they described how slowly they would kill her and her family if she tried anything as they took her from her cell and into a blinding light. Thrown into a cart with two others and taken through the city. After getting used to the blinding light, she looked at her companions they were her father and her uncle, both alive and relatively unharmed. Nani, relieved and happy, hugged them both as the citizenry around them jeered and mocked.
Her father was quiet, staring listlessly out of the cells of the cart. Nanine's heart ached to see the broken look in his eyes, where once their had been a burning fire. He remained that way till they reached their destination, a crude arena put together in the years they had gone by. The flames seemed smolder in his eyes once more, and muttered something about 'damned pirates ruining our city' as they were taken from the cart, lead towards what they only assumed was their execution block. To their surprise, rather than an executioner's blade, they were thrown into the arena, and it was announced that for their crimes against Wayrest (the three of them snorted at this) they would fight an endless horde of enemies and criminals until they died in this pit.
The first group was five ragged, starved bandits. They could barely walk, much less put up a fight. It saddened and sickened Nanine to kill them in such a manner, as mere entertainment for savages, but it was either she killed them or they killed her. And she didn't want to die in this pit. The next group was more fit, healthier, but still emaciated. Deserters, perhaps. Or maybe a few who had gone against the so called 'Pirate-Lord'. They fell like the others. And so it went, each group coming out to kill them being healthier and better equipped then the last. Nanine and her family refrained from using magic. They didn't need to, and it was an edge that they could use later on. As the gate opened for the tenth time, Nanine and her family suddenly froze. Walking from the other side of the arena was what remained of their houseguards and retinue. These men and women weren't just random peasants or mercenaries hired to fight the corsairs. These were people who had loyally served them for years, some of them even decades. These were practically family.
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena, silencing the crowd. "Welcome to your final event! If you manage to kill the other side, you will get to go free and scamper away with your lives! If not, well, obviously, you will die like the dogs you a-"
"No." Her father's voice rang out, increased by magic, silencing the announcer and the excited babble of the crowd. "We are the last members of House Tilhart, the true rulers of Wayrest. We do not kill our own." The crowd laughed. "You have taken our homes, our lives, and our freedom from us. We have fallen low, and lost much. But we will survive. We will rebuild." Flames gathered in her father's palms, and he brought them together, continuing his speech. People were beginning to get worried, shuffling backwards. The guards were reaching for arrows."We will do what we always do." The flames were burning bright, writhing in his palms as if they were eager to be released. Arrows slammed into him, piercing his armor, as the guards tried to kill them before his spell could go off. Her father stumbled, keeping his voice strong, if pained. "We will rise. And you will fall." Her father shot his fire ball directly at the crude wall to their left, exploding in a hellish inferno.
Nanine ran to her father as smoke and screams rose into the sky, everyone trying to escape in a panic as the wooden arena began to burn. He was fading, puking blood, dying in front of her. He had used up magicka reserves he didn't have, and now his body was paying the price. He pushed her off as she tried to help him, forcing her to stand to the side. As she watched, he pulled the Risen Blade from his sheathe and laid it on the ground, casting one last spell on himself. He fumbled with a pouch around his neck, finally pulling something free. A black soul gem tumbled from his rapidly weakening hands, landing next to the Blade. He looked up at Nanine and smiled, the light rapidly fading from his eyes. "Rise, Nani. Rise." With that, her father fell dead in front of her. The black soul gem shone with inner fire.
She didn't have time to grieve, to truly react to what had happened. Her uncle was yelling at her from the hole her father had made, and the Corsair's were rapidly organizing. She snatched up her father's soul gem and the Risen Blade, and ran for it. She and her uncle sprinted for the nearest city wall. If they could just get away, they could make it. Guards were running to and fro, the city was panicking as they attempted to battle the flames. In the chaos she and her uncle got separated, him leading off a band of guards as she ran on. Nanine barely escaped that city, the fire spreading rapidly and providing enough chaos for her to get out. Nanine escaped along the river, eventually collapsing in a cave and falling into a deep sleep. Getting up the next day, she added her father's soul to the Risen Blade. It was what her family had done for generations, and what her father expected of her.
She picked herself up and started walking away, sobbing as she did so. She didn't have time to properly grieve. She had to leave, before the Corsair's sent out search parties. She could only hope and pray her uncle and others had survived, and would make their way back to the small holding where they had started. Nanine knew the way, having memorized and drawn it as she went, and she was there within a month. There was no one. It was as empty as they had left it, expecting to set up in Wayrest after their victory. She couldn't just leave. Her uncle might still be alive, on his way to the holding.
So Nanine stayed at the empty hold, eating what sparse food they had left. For another two months Nanine stayed there, reading the books in the library, practicing her spells, and slowly eating the food left. When it ran out, she had no choice. If her uncle was still alive he would have gotten to the holding now. He was dead, along with the rest of her family. Nanine didn't cry, having quietly accepted this possibility early into her waiting.
She wasn't going to try to reclaim Wayrest. It was what her father would have expected of her, but he was dead, and so was everyone else. The Tilharts were finished, and the damned pirates were welcome to Wayrest. With no food, no family, no reason to stay in the empty hold, and only the armor on her back and the blade in her hand to her name, Nanine didn't know where to go. The rest of High Rock would only seek to use her against their enemies, as a pawn in their games. She didn't know anything about the rest of Tamriel, and she certainly didn't have any supplies or materials to actually survive a long trip out of High Rock.
With nothing left to do, and her food run out, Nanine fell back on tradition. She joined the Imperial Legion. It took her a month to get to the nearest barracks and recruitment station of the Legion, following the road and direction of the local villages she came across. She spent a sparse few months being trained, as she had already been trained in the art of war by her father, and then was sent on to the nearest front of the Legion: Skyrim.
It was towards the tail end of the war, as the Legion was continuing to make gains against Ulfric and his Stormcloaks. Being a mage of considerable power and no stranger, Nanine was immediately sent into the front lines. She enjoyed it, losing herself in the fight for Skyrim, in the knowledge that she was apart of something bigger than herself, and that she was helping restore order. It gave her a sense of comfort and purpose. She fought all across Skyrim during those months, raining fire and lightning down upon the Empire's foes. One week she would be in Markarth, defending the town from the Stormcloaks. The next she'd be seizing a fort in the wilderness, claiming it for the Empire.
After the war was over, Windhelm seized and the rebellion crushed, she remained in the Legion for another three years, cleaning up the mess that was Skyrim. Forts were reclaimed from bandits, rogue magic users, and Stormcloak holdouts. Caves were cleared of Falmer, Vampires, and even more bandits. Eventually, Nanine felt that she was doing no more good in Skryim, or in the Legion, her purpose there fulfilled. She had moved on from her family's death, and grown into her own person. She left the army, becoming an adventurer and bodyguard for hire.
That is how she got onto this expedition, hired on by Rhea Valerius to help defend the expedition from any attacks.
Personality: Nanine is proud of her heritage and family, at times to the point of arrogance. She is the last of a noble house, and she isn't going to forget it. However, she is also aware that her childhood and experience is the vast minority of all of Tamriel. Up until the corsair siege, she was one of the luckiest, and even afterwards she was considerably fortunate. She tries to keep her pride balanced by practicality, but fails at times.
That pride extends to her sword, of which she is fiercely protective of, to the point of irrationality. She doesn't trust anyone else with it, and sleeps with it at her side. There have been several times where she's risked her life to save the Risen Blade, much to the surprise and incredulity of her allies.
When it comes to maintaining things, (her hair, her books, her equipment, etc etc) Nani is a ritualistic person. She does things a certain way, in a certain order, and it helps her relax. She has enough chaos in her life, she doesn't need extra added by her own actions.
When Nanine is at a difficult decision and can't find the right way to go, no matter which way she looks at it, she'll fall back on the tradition of her family. Emphasis on loyalty and doing what's best for the Empire. It hasn't lead her astray yet, and she prays it never will.
Deeply inquisitive, especially of magic, Nani leaps at the opportunity to learn something new. It doesn't matter if it's an utterly useless piece of information, she will appreciate and enjoy it. She could listen for hours to a potter, a blacksmith, a shoemaker, or any expert on anything. This is part of the reason why she signed onto the expedition, as the Dwemer are an unknown factor to her and incredibly intriguing.
Whenever she's drawing, or focusing on something particularly hard, Nani has a tendency to block the world out and unconsciously plays with her magic. Fire swirls around in her palm, lighting twitches between her finger tips, etc etc. She's not sure what it does, but it helps her concentrate. In general, she finds magic deeply comforting, reaching out to it and her connection with it in times of fear, anger, or worry, soothing herself.
She strives to be cheerful and easy going, having had enough of strife and tension amongst allies in her life to last her until the day she dies. Forever an optimist, Nanine is always looking for the silver lining. The alternative is a dark path that she is scared to travel down.
At times, Nanine will find someone or something particularly interesting, powerful, or beautiful, and strive to commit it to her memory (despite not needing anything more then a glance). This leads to her unconsciously staring at someone or something for minutes on end, attempting to commit every minuscule detail. When asked or prodded about it, she'll snap back to reality and get deeply embarrassed.
Misc.:
-Nani has photographic memory, allowing her to recall people, objects, and places she's seen in perfect detail. She uses this to draw images of events or things she's seen from memory, filling her journals with sights both wondrous and tragic.
-Nani has a large knowledge of the Daedra (from Lord to servant), having studied them extensively as a child.
-Having been at it from the age of five, Nani is very good at drawing and painting when she's got the chance. She prefers to draw things she's seen, rather than from her imagination, recreating them in her journals in flawless detail.
-She wants to write her own book, but is struggling with a story idea and where to start.
-Nanine can't carry a tune to save her life and has a bad singing voice, something she is acutely aware of. Whenever group singing comes around, she contents her self to quiet muttering or humming. Unless she is drunk, that is. Then she will shamelessly belt out the lyrics in her horrid voice, much to the regret of those around her and her own regret after she wakes up.
-Nanine hates pirates (and by extension bandits) with every fiber of her being. They took everything from her, and in her eyes all of them are murderous bastards who only deserve to be put to the sword.
-Nani, despite their inability to aid her father, has utter faith in the Empire. They are the source of Order in Tamriel, and firmly believes that without them being strong the world will descend into chaos.
-Nanine is a very light sleeper, a habit she developed after the disaster that was her father's crusade, and several ambushes by Stormcloaks.
WARNING LOTS OF BABBY COW PICTURES.
I present to you, baby cow warily circles my outstretched hand, gets distracted by dog, then runs away after working up the courage to briefly boop my hand.