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 AssociatesBrulius Tilhart: Father, deceased.
Lelle Tilhart: Mother, deceased.
Fenacois Tilhart: Uncle, presumed dead.
Willnven Tilhart: Brother, missing.
Favoured Skills:Highly ProficientDestruction-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 ProficientOne-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 ProficientEnchantment-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
- 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. Keeping in with the laws of the Empire, House Tilhart extracts agreements from all of their soldiers to use their bodies after death (if necessary). Since most people outside of the House despise Necromantic acts, and find the idea of it being used on their own bodies horrifying, House Tilhart only recruits from the families of soldiers that have been serving the Tilharts for generations, their views lining directly with the House's. As a direct result, House Tilhart's personal army is a very small but fiercely loyal group.
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.
Due to these actions, House Tilhart is mostly isolated from the other families of Wayrest and indeed all of High Rock. Their walled estate is on the outer edge of the city, towards the inland, and they barely play the politics that all the other families engage in. What they do engage in is merely to keep the city strong (or their definition of it) and loyal to the Empire. A mentality of 'Serve the House, Serve the Empire' is ingrained into their minds. No one else understands what the Tilharts are willing to do, or what the Empire means to them. Everyone else is to weak willed to do what is necessary, so the Tilharts will have to carry the burden of being strong enough to do what must be done and bear the stigma that comes from it. Their many opponents have likened the Tilharts to a cult, rich madmen practicing the Black Arts.
The Tilharts manage to bring in spouses from other families, as inbreeding only breeds weakness. These are typically other mages, curious as to the practice of Necromancy, or arranged marriages. This serves to only strengthen the magic of the House, which serves a major part of their political power. House Tilhart has produced some of the strongest mages in Wayrest, particularly enchanters. That, coupled with their extreme wealth (a by-product of their enchanting practices, as they sold enchanted weapons far and wide), has kept them a powerful enough family to make the other houses pay heed when they deign to dabble in politics.
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. It was an event that would never really affect Nani, despite the deep sympathy she would get from others around her. Her mother was nothing more than a painting on the wall, a story told by her father and relatives, an ideal to live up too. Her father, grandparents, and uncle were her real parents. They taught her right from wrong, and how to draw. Her father would tell her fantastic stories at night, sometimes reading from a book, sometimes making them up as he went, and sometimes relaying heroic tales from the Great War. Her grandparents let her help them with enchanting and counting, teaching her bits and pieces about the process. Her uncle would always have a sweet for her, giving the to her with a conspiratorial wink and a smile. They were her family, not a woman on a wall. They trained her and her brother, cared for them, and helped shape them into the perfect imperial battle mages. Being not even five, the training was mostly on how to control, sense, and draw upon her powers.
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 here. 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.
Nanine and her brother didn't understand. They wanted to go home, to see their grandparents again. They didn't like this place, nor how they arrived here. Their confusion and questions were only met with quick, brusque explanations. Their grandparents and most of their friends were dead. The pirates had taken their home. They needed to take it back. All the two of them took from those explanations was that the pirates were why their grandparents were gone and why they had to live here now. The pirates were why everyone was sad, and the caught their father and uncle crying when they thought no one was looking. The pirates were bad. They hated the pirates.
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. Nanine and her brother only found escape and solace in their individual studies in the library the holding had.
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. It was an escape from the prickly temper of her father, and his obsessed eyes.
One of the darker, to outsiders, facets of her training was that of necromancy. As far as House Tilhart is concerned, you can't resurrect the dead without knowing what makes them tick. Nani was taught how to dissect the various races of Tamriel, noting their various similarities and differences. For the most part she learned from a book, as getting fresh corpses of different races was both impractical and ludicrously expensive, but would occasionally get a bandit or criminal corpse to dissect.
She learned how to identify wounds and their extent in a glance, and know how they would affect the effectiveness of a corpse as a resurrected servant. The point to all this, beyond learning how to best use her necromancy spells, was to instill a basic respect for the bodies she would be using for her own ends in the future. Not the respect as something living, but the respect of a well made tool, something to be admired and used.
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.
This was the source of the first argument between Nani and her father, and it was violent. It was 8 months after her brother had left, and there had been no communication since the second month. Nanine was following her father as he walked into the study, demanding that he take action, send a search party, contact the orcs in Orsinium, someone in Hammerfell, anything. Her father gave a brief command to leave it alone. Nani did not. She kept pushing the issue. Her brother was missing, and her father didn't care. She was hurt and angry and didn't care that her father was visibly getting angrier. She wanted answers. Why, why was this
Oblivion damned city more important than his own son?
Finally her father snapped, drawing his dagger he kept at his side and flinging it at her. Nani was caught unprepared, her reaction time as she jerked back too slow. She felt the tip of the dagger dig into her eyebrow then stop, held their by her father's telekinesis. "You will leave the subject alone. Your brother gave his life for the House, and he did so loyally. You will do so as well, or I will have no use for you.
Do you understand." Nanine gritted her teeth against the pain, glaring at him.
"Perfectly." The dagger left, returning to his hand. "Good. Now go get that taken care of." Nani kept a hand pressed against the wound, staunching the flow of blood.
"As you say, father." She spat the word at him like a curse, then turned on her heel and left. That night, she cried herself to sleep, sending prayers to Z'en to protect her brother if he lived, and Arkay to be gentle in taking him if he had died.
This had devoured her father destroying the man she had known as a young child, the man with a quick smile and a gentle reading voice. It had become the only thing in the world he cared about. There was no dissuading him from this path, for he would hear no argument against his crusade. Nanine was left with only two choices. Stick with her father, and the House, or leave entirely. Her entire being balked at the idea of leaving, abandoning her House. It went against everything she had ever been told. So she stayed, despite her feelings of betrayal and grief.
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." Nanine remained silent, staring at the city she barely remembered, the reason her father had become so warped. She hated 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. In 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 for a few hours, till the afternoon, trapped in the dark, muttering prayers to the Bretony 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. At the same time, she felt a grim, shameful, satisfaction.
Look what you've done she wanted to say.
Is this worth what you have done to me? To all of us? She remained silent. He remained that way till they reached their destination, a crude stone 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 family, and Nanine refused to kill them. The crowd babbled excitedly at the shock, happiness, hope, and despair in all their faces.
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 stands to their left, exploding in a hellish inferno. He cast two more fire balls, one directly at the announcer's area, and one at the stands to his right, then collapsed to the ground.
Nanine ran to her father as smoke and screams rose into the sky, everyone trying to escape in a panic as the stands of the 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 react to what had happened. Her uncle was yelling at her from side of the arena, and the Corsair's were rapidly organizing. She snatched up her father's soul gem and the Risen Blade, and ran for it. With the help of her Uncle's telekinesis and their house guards, she managed to scramble up the walls. As she leaned down to help the next person up, dozens of corsair guards stormed into the arena, death and fury in their eyes. Their five house guards turned drawing their weapons. The most senior of them shouted over his shoulder at Nanine and her uncle. "Run Lord and Lady Tilhart. We will hold them." Her uncle grit his teeth, nodding once, then grabbed Nani's proffered hand and scrambled up the wall next to her. The House guards began banging their weapons against whatever was available (a shield, their vambraces, the ground if they had a spear), making their war cries. "For the Tilharts!" "We Rise!" "We Rise!" "We Rise!"
Her Unlce turned around, a spell in his hands. "Rise, fallen enemies. Rise for the Tilharts." He cast a dozen small conjuration spells, ressurecting the pit fighters they had killed. The Corsairs screamed in horror as the dead rose behind them and attacked, blades swinging. With grim smiles, Nanine and her uncle sprinted through the stands and out of the arena, looking for a city wall.. If they could just get away, they could make it. As she ran, Nanine threw fire spells at random through the city, igniting the buildings and burning even more.
Corsairs 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.
She picked herself up and started walking away. She had to leave, before the Corsair's sent out search parties. She had walked for most of the day before realizing that she hadn't thought of her father once. She hadn't grieved his lost, or planned to retake his city. She felt nothing at his death. At first Nani was horrified and ashamed. The man, despite all his flaws, was her
father. He raised her from birth and done his best to protect her. Eventually, as she walked, she realized she had mourned his death a long time ago. Her father had died years ago. That shell of him had been walking around ever since.
She hoped and prayed 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. She didn't join out of some false dreams of her childhood, or because her family demanded it. She did it because she had nothing left. The world was cold and dark, with the strong crushing the weak. Darkness and evil ran rampant and free, and there as nothing anyone could do about it. Tradition was all she had left to cling to, and she clung to it tightly. 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 family, 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 to combat, Nanine was immediately sent into the front lines. In spite of everything, She enjoyed it, losing herself in the fight for Skyrim, in the sense of camaraderie and loyalty her fellow legionnaires shared, in their knowledge that they were apart of something bigger than themselves, and that they were helping restore order. They gave her a sense of comfort and purpose. They helped her heal. It made the world seem less despairing and cold, like there was something good left to be done. That one person could actually make a difference in the world, and you didn't have to be evil to be strong. It gave her back her hope. 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, and that her purpose there fulfilled. She had moved on from her family's death, and grown into her own person. She saw the world with hope and happiness again. And while she would never again reach the dreamy levels of her youth, she at least would never let herself sink into that pit of despair again. 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. She has been down the other path, the crushing despair and cold outlook. She's afraid that if she goes down that path again, she might never come back.
The loss of her family and friends has instilled a deep fear in Nani about losing others close to her. While she tries to reassure herself that her friends can take care of themselves, she still finds herself making protective moves, even if they're unwanted. Staying close to them in battle, keeping an eye on them at all times, checking and double checking their enchantments (if any), repeated offers to make enchantments of protection, etc etc. If for some reason they're going into a dangerous situation that she can't follow, she will fervently pray for their safety.
Having seen what an obsession can do to someone, how it can destroy the person they had been and leave only a bitter shell left, Nani is very wary of being
too interested in any particular thing. If she starts seeing the signs that a certain goal or thing might be consuming someone's life, she'll grow concerned and attempt to take their minds off of it or dissuade them from desiring it so badly. As expected, this rarely ends well.
At times, Nanine will find someone or something particularly interesting, powerful, or beautiful, and strive to commit it to her memory. 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.
Despite knowing that most of Tamriel despises necromancy, Nanine is still confused as to
why. To her, it is natural to use the dead to fight for you. They're no longer the living, the people who you knew and loved. They're just empty shells, waiting to be used. This has lead to many an argument followed by an off-hand comment made by her after someone has died. To many it seems that she is callous, but Nani merely doesn't think of the corpse as anything more than that. A corpse that could be used for better things than laying on the ground, completely separate from the person it once housed.
Misc.:
-Nani has eidetic memory, allowing her to recall people, objects, events, and places she's seen in almost perfect detail (including senses other than just sight). 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.
-Nani doesn't need to use only her hands to caste spells. As long as she focuses, she can cast it from any part of her body. This obviously takes longer, as she's far more used to her hands as a focus point, but she can do it.
-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 is familiar with the anatomies of all the races of Tamriel, and can dissect any of them and tell you exactly what every thing inside them does. Going in hand with this, she can also glance at most wounds and give you a general idea of the damage they've done, inside and out, and what affects they might have on locomotion and power.
-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.
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Auz,
Spoopy Scary,
AlteredTundra,
Lord Zee
