Lathien

Lathien (Lathien) originated in New Yoake on July 15th and is native to Eldham. Spending most of his early life in New Yoake, at the age of 19 he ventured out into the wilderness where he established himself as Forgemaster in various countries and eventually throughout the entirety of Eldham. His reputation for forging uniquely crafted armor and weapons infused with mythical and ancient elements would put him as high as the third most wealthy person and one of the most recognizable names on the continent.

Light in a Fading Abyss
Lathien started out in New Yoake, his origins unknown even to himself. He awoke in the snowy plains of outer New Yoake with no bearings beyond the clothes on his back. He sought shelter in an abandoned cabin, living off berries he found near his surroundings, completely unfamiliar with his location or the best course of action. After thirteen days of living under these conditions he was discovered severely malnourished and suffering from hypothermia by Snickee. He was estimated to be around the age of 14 at the time. Knowing he would die if he remained out in the cold, Snickee took the boy and brought him to the capital where he was presented to VonObby, Patron of the Respiten Vampires, who decided the boy should be converted to a vampire immediately, or face his imminent fate of death by frostbite and infection.

Lathien was repeatedly questioned about his origins, but all he could utter was “I’m missing something. I’m not supposed to be here.” He couldn't elaborate. Later he explained that he didn’t know where he came from, nor who he was.

A Search for Nothing Lost
At the age of 19, Lathien was fraught with a restless urge to leave New Yoake. He knew he needed to look for something, but was ignorant as to what. Despite his ignorance, he couldn't compel himself to ignore the wanderlust. With an impromptu attempt at packing, he left New Yoake without warning and with no destination in mind. Only his internal sense of direction and destiny guided him on his journey through the wilderness. His adventure was perilous and riddled with danger. Along his travels he was drawn to certain mythical fragments which he figured he could join with his weapons to make them stronger. This would not only provide the perfect protection for his trip, but would also be the beginning of a new trade that would change his life forever.

Throughout his travels Lathien made several stops where he set up forges in the cities that harboured him and forged armours and weapons for the kind souls that would grant him temporary shelter. As time went on and as he became more practiced, he found himself growing more and more well known for the skills that he had cultivated throughout his ventures. One such place was the city of Steinborg, part of Skjoldrbrodir, which at the time was a bustling town. It was there that in the caverns of a heartbroken mermaid he claimed his first fragment, the Shattered Heart, for his own. After that, he ascended to a level of mastery that further solidified his fame, yet he was not looking for wealth; he yearned for something inexplicable. He yearned for a completion that would tether him to his hollow existence.

At the Foot of the World
Eventually, he found himself at the foot of the World Tree, Yggdrasil, in the Ashtrokan-Wandenreich Empire. He marveled at the strength of the timbre; he felt welcomed by the friendly townsfolk. Being a complete foreigner, he was surprised to be greeted with such familial warmth by one such person named Burritos, and was unconditionally given citizenship. Lathien was stunned by how in such a surreal world there could be such warmth beyond his family's -- were they even that? -- could exist, and forged them the weapons of the world tree's bark in thanks. It was within this wood that he felt his essence drawn to an artefact concealed, and he uncovered wondrously a jagged sword humming placidly. He stayed for months, developing an intrigue in the Quincy faith. But alas, he had to continue on his journey.

Continuing Journey
The prevalent tugging in his gut would come to define him. From the inception of his origins, it had been the one defining sensation that he could wholly embrace as something native to him. Lathien continued Southwest, until he found himself in the heart of Ravenguard territory, where he struck up amicable relations with King Onetapped and numerous other natives of the vast lands. He felt it 's call, but the tugging in his gut was weaker than usual. Despite being asked to stay in the beautiful capital of RavenCrest, he politely refused and continued on his journey, stopping only once to visit his motherland, Avaricia. A land in the deserts of a shattered republic, it stood tall and proud, and it was there that he met Yoru, the High Prophet of a Cult that fervently worshipped Spirits and a realm beyond ours. It is there that the tugging was strongest; he could feel his essence calling out to him as though he were being forcefully dragged by rope. He had found a beautiful blade, and was inclined to keep it like the four before it. It pulsed with a deep crimson ardor, and his companion warned him of its malevolent aura, yet as he clutched it triumphantly he felt a part of him slide into place, content, as all things must be.

The hazy messages in the darkness of the nights that ensued would haunt him from the darkness of the night until the sun rose. Part of the hollowness in his mind clicked into place. He learned what he had lost. Now reunited with the Vampires in New Yoake, he woke one day to a sharp pain in his stomach. His blue eyes flashed red for an instant underneath his mask, and tears fell from the sky as the spirits of the world mourned the inevitable.