Nathaniel Howe
Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
- Posts
- 183
((OOC: Vigil's Keep, 9:31, The night of Nathaniel's Joining))
Pain radiated from the top of Nathaniel's head to the bottom of his toes. Slowly he opened his eyes and let out a low groan before his hand rose to press against his brow. Where was... Vigil's Keep. The fog of his sleep burned away and a new dawn of realization set in.
Aedan conscripted him. He was a Grey Warden.
Anger tensed his jaw causing the thrum of his headache to intensify. And as if everything hurting was not bad enough, a rancid taste lingered upon his tongue, sending him into a fit of dry heaves that caused him to roll and lean off the edge of the bed. Small favor, he supposed, that the guards had not seen fit to feed him that day else more than air would have dusted the rug beneath the bed.
Nathaniel heaved himself from the bed, step unsteady at first but grew more controlled as he strode across the room to a small basin and mirror. Not seeing any other water within the room, he lifted the pitcher and drank down some of the liquid in hopes of washing away the aftertaste of darkspawn blood.
The water hit his stomach like a stone, stoking a hunger like he had never felt before. He poured some of the water into the basin and placed his hand upon his stomach, fingers vibrating from the growl within. There had been lean days since his return from the Free Marches and even leaner days while in Kirkwall. Nothing compared to the pains clawing his gut now.
Hands dipped into the basin, splashing water upon his face. His reflection was the same. The dream...
Within the light of flame the monster’s features became more clear. Gnarled, malformed, the face of a man looked back at him, eyes empty, mouth drawn in sneer. But the nose…
He looked the same, but there was no doubting, there had been a change within him. Something rotten and twisted ate at him. Aedan saw to that.
A sneer contorted the line of Nathaniel's mouth, rage bringing him to lift the pitcher and toss at the mirror, shattering the fixture into many pieces. Fingers sank into his hair and he squatted upon the ground.
Light spilled into the room as the door opened quickly, drawing Nathaniel back to his feet and his gaze toward the doorway. A guard stood there, one Nathaniel recognized though the man had aged. Henry, he remembered, and Henry did not look happy. "What's going on in here?" the guard asked.
An unamused smile sharpened his expression. Nathaniel had traded the dungeons of below for a slightly more accommodating cell if guards were posted outside his room. "Accident," Nathaniel explained. The rumble in his stomach demanded he say more but Nathaniel's pride won out and he said nothing more.
The guard regarded him for a moment before nodding his head once and shutting the door behind him.
Pain radiated from the top of Nathaniel's head to the bottom of his toes. Slowly he opened his eyes and let out a low groan before his hand rose to press against his brow. Where was... Vigil's Keep. The fog of his sleep burned away and a new dawn of realization set in.
Aedan conscripted him. He was a Grey Warden.
Anger tensed his jaw causing the thrum of his headache to intensify. And as if everything hurting was not bad enough, a rancid taste lingered upon his tongue, sending him into a fit of dry heaves that caused him to roll and lean off the edge of the bed. Small favor, he supposed, that the guards had not seen fit to feed him that day else more than air would have dusted the rug beneath the bed.
Nathaniel heaved himself from the bed, step unsteady at first but grew more controlled as he strode across the room to a small basin and mirror. Not seeing any other water within the room, he lifted the pitcher and drank down some of the liquid in hopes of washing away the aftertaste of darkspawn blood.
The water hit his stomach like a stone, stoking a hunger like he had never felt before. He poured some of the water into the basin and placed his hand upon his stomach, fingers vibrating from the growl within. There had been lean days since his return from the Free Marches and even leaner days while in Kirkwall. Nothing compared to the pains clawing his gut now.
Hands dipped into the basin, splashing water upon his face. His reflection was the same. The dream...
Within the light of flame the monster’s features became more clear. Gnarled, malformed, the face of a man looked back at him, eyes empty, mouth drawn in sneer. But the nose…
He looked the same, but there was no doubting, there had been a change within him. Something rotten and twisted ate at him. Aedan saw to that.
A sneer contorted the line of Nathaniel's mouth, rage bringing him to lift the pitcher and toss at the mirror, shattering the fixture into many pieces. Fingers sank into his hair and he squatted upon the ground.
Light spilled into the room as the door opened quickly, drawing Nathaniel back to his feet and his gaze toward the doorway. A guard stood there, one Nathaniel recognized though the man had aged. Henry, he remembered, and Henry did not look happy. "What's going on in here?" the guard asked.
An unamused smile sharpened his expression. Nathaniel had traded the dungeons of below for a slightly more accommodating cell if guards were posted outside his room. "Accident," Nathaniel explained. The rumble in his stomach demanded he say more but Nathaniel's pride won out and he said nothing more.
The guard regarded him for a moment before nodding his head once and shutting the door behind him.