Nesir Aeser
| Nesir Aeser | |
|---|---|
| Nes-eer Ay-sire | |
| Created by | Katy |
| Information | |
| Gender | Male |
| Occupation | Ji'val |
| Affiliation |
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| Nationality | Illianer |
| Attributes | |
| Weapon Skills |
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Nesir Aeser is an Illianer Ji'val of the Grey Tower.
Description
Nesir Aeser is of middling height; around 5 foot 7, when he arrives at the tower he is very thin, almost scrawny, one of may facts that are at odd with the story he tells. His light brown hair surrounds a face where eyes, no one can quite decide if they are green or brown, watch the world wary and suspicious. He is not conventionally handsome, his nose is slightly off to one side, as if it has been broken more than once and he is missing a tooth near the front of his mouth on the right hand side. If you study is hands it would seam his fingers have been broken more than once as well, and set rather unevenly.
Nesir could be described as sullen, he speaks rarely and his face is one that seldom smiles. When he does speak his Illian accent is strong and his tone rarely respectful, unless he is speaking to one who he knows can punish him, then he shows respect albeit begrudgingly. He angers quickly but rarely lets his anger show, like any emotion he keeps it bottled up inside him.
Biography
Nesir Aeser was born to a successful innkeeper in Illian. He lived with both his parents in the inn; he had a happy carefree childhood. His father took care to educate his son so he would be able to take on the inn after him, therefore he has a good knowledge of letters and numbers as well as history and some knowledge of politics. As Nesir grew older he helped out more and more in the inn, learning the trade of his family, and being happy at it. His future was secure, he was to work at his family's inn and then take it over. On one fateful day in early winter as the first snows fell, one cold, icy day, all that changed.
Darkfriends, men and women serving the shadow, before that day were only stories in Nesir's mind. He knew they were real, his father had told him all the warning stories as a child, but they had never entered his life, until that day. He never did find out what his parents had done, which made the Darkfriends hate them so much. Maybe they had done nothing. Maybe the Darkfriends had needed no excuse; maybe it was just that his parents were good people, therefore enemy of the Dark. He would never know, but that cold day, in the early mists of morning the smell of burning woke him.
By the time Nesir scrambled out of the inn it was beyond saving. His home was no more, and neither were his parents. His mother had been lost in the blaze; his father had stumbled out, clutching his stomach, were a knife protruded. In his dying breaths his father spoke to Nesir. He told him that Darkfriends had burned the inn down, though gave his son no reason why they had done so. In his last breaths he gave his son an order. "You do carry on Nesir, and do travel to the Mountains of mist, they do be a long way from here, but in them Mountains do be a Tower. The Grey Tower do be its name and there do no be any Darkfriends there. Go there and do learn to be a warder, they do fight against the shadow." His fathers breathing slowed then stopped; Nesir was alone.
He travelled for days, living off what he could find, which was not a lot. He stopped in towns and villages begging for food and asking directions to the fabled Grey Tower. Unfortunately as it was little more than a story to most people he was laughed at and jeered at, even those kind ones he met did not know fully where the place he sought was. Luck however was on his side, at a town about a week and a half walk away from the inn where he grew up Nesir met a woman. This woman told him he was an Aes Sedai from the Grey Tower. Nesir could not believe his good fortune; the woman was heading back to the Tower and agreed to take Nesir with her.
And so Nesir arrived at the Grey Tower full of hopes and dreams of avenging his parents, by fulfilling his father's wish and joining the fight against the shadow.
The boy was not sure if those that raised him were his parents, nor did he know if the boy he grew up with, who he was never found apart from, was his brother. He had never been told, and never asked, his questions were not usually answered, or tolerated. His home as far back as he could remember was an inn in Illian. The innkeepers; two men and a woman, raised him and his brother.
Their home was the basement of the inn. Among the barrels and stored food and drink the two boys spent their nights. They had no names, or if they did no one ever used them. They called each other Brother, and those who raised them called them Boy.
From an early age the boys lived double lives. In the daytime their mornings and evenings were taken up serving customers in the inn, scrubbing dishes, doing whatever jobs were given to them. It would have been easy work if the tavern had been a friendly clean place. However the Dragon's Crown inn in Illian was the sort of place light fearing men avoided. The inside was a dank dark place, with shadowy corners where drunken men gambled their lives away, where thieves met and plotted.
The afternoons were the boys time to do what they wished, the inn was quiet, before people arrived for the evening, and the keepers would rather the boys were out from under foot. So in the afternoons the boys played in the city, they were friends with the street children and thieves. They were soon prized among the children as the two boys proved to be good thieves, quick and good at hiding.
There was a reason for these skills that made them so popular; at night the two boys lived a very different life, from about midnight to the early hours of two or three in the morning they would be taught. Taught by Tawin, one of the innkeepers. At first these lessons were simple, reading and writing, by the age of five the two children were taught to steal, to walk silently, and later; how to kill, with knives, poisons and their hands.
The boys made their pledge to the shadow at the age of six. They knew not to speak of it to anyone. Anyone apart from Tawin, Masim and Junie, the three innkeepers, and also another, another two, a woman who visited the inn often; Elina Sedai she was called, when they were young the boys just knew her as someone important, and they were not to mention her to anyone. Someone the innkeepers respected and feared, the boys kept out of her way as much as possible. The other was a man who accompanied Elina Sedai, Kant his name was, later the two boys would discover that Kant was Elina Sedai's warder, they would also discover what an Aes Sedai was. But at the age of six the boys were banished to the basement whenever the man and woman visited.
The inn had a rat cat, who's job was to keep the customer areas free from rats, though the boys knew the rest of the inn was home to many rats, rats were creatures of the dark. In their young minds their friends in a way none of the street children ever could be. When the children were nine this rat cat had kittens, two of them, tiny things that completely took the children by awe. Each took one each and very soon the sight of the two kittens tagging along at the boys heals was a common sight, both inside and outside the inn.
It was one of those hot summer days, where it was an effort just to move, the boy was wandering with his cat, now a year old, he had nothing to do as the inn was quiet and only his brother was needed to serve customers. He could not go out however as he was not allowed to, nor would he venture out without his brother unless he was sent on an errand. He came into one of the spare bedrooms, one that had a secret hatch that his brother and him would often play in, or hide in when they were in trouble, even though their guardians always found them.
That day when the boy pushed open the door he realised that the room was not as empty as he thought, Kant was sat on one of the low chairs, the boy had froze, he had not even known that Elina Sedai was there. His eyes had been drawn straight away to that which Kant was holding in his hands, it was a knife, a slim knife, the boy knew that its primary purpose was to kill secretly, not to fight with or to throw but to kill silently and secretly. Despite his young age the knife held fascination and it drew him in, he walked closer to the warder and tilted his head to the side curiously.
He was not as frightened as Kant as he was of Elina Sedai, though the man was frightening in his own right, but at that moment in time he was more interested in the dagger that the man had in his hand. To the boy it was beautiful, in a way a tool that he was just learning how to use properly was, the hilt was black and was made out of some kind of bone, smooth and without a flaw. The warder spoke all of a sudden, breaking the boys concentration, "Do you know how to use this, boy?" The boy had nodded, proud at the things he knew, and the things he was learning.
It was a memory the boy disliked remembering, the way the warder had convinced him, manipulated him, bribed him ending in the boy had walking of the room the dagger a prize in his belt, his pet kitten dead and forgotten in the room behind him. He told his brother that his kitten had ran away, strangely enough his brothers kitten had also ran away the very same day, though if his brother had told him the truth or not was a different matter. The knife was something he kept secret from his brother, not wanting to admit how he had been manipulated.
The boys began to learn the art of manipulation that summer, and the boy soon became good at it, he had felt what it was like to be manipulated and he had no wish to be so again. However he did like the feeling of power it gave him when he managed it, though he could never manipulate those that truly controlled his life.
Through his eleventh year the boy started being sent on more dangerous tasks, the most dangerous was poisoning a wealthy merchant in the town, the experience had been exhilarating for the boy, who had believed himself about to be caught every minute. It was a fear that was addictive however and he looked forward to his rare tasks.
His brother however did not seam to get the same excitement from killing however, his brother had always been the quieter, less adventurous one who felt guilt much more deeply then the boy did. As close as the two were the boy could see that his brother was beginning to fade, to become quieter.
The day everything changed was a calm winters day, though a raging storm would have been more appropriate. The boy's brother had been sent out on a task the night before, the boy did not know what it had been but he had a feeling it had not gone well. His brother had been in quite a mood when he returned and had snapped at the boy when he asked what was wrong. He had soon broke down however and had sobbed himself to sleep in the boy's arms, the boy never did learn what had happened.
That day he was called into one of the small store rooms that went off from the basement. Only Tawin was there, with his brother, the boys looked at each other with indifference, despite being so close when on there own they soon learnt how to remain distant when with others, even the innkeepers. If no one knew they were friends their friendship could not be manipulated, that was their theory.
Tawin was not happy that day, and the source of his anger seamed to be the boys brother. Tawin had looked at the boy coldly and nodded at his sleeve in which he knew the boy kept his dagger, the one that Kant had given him. "You do know what that do be used for boy, yes?" Tawin growled in his fashion, the boy just nodded, he knew Tawin was angry and when Tawin was in this mood it was best just to do exactly as he was told.
Tawin nodded, scowling, as if he had made a point, "This one do no be knowing," a sharp thumb gesture to the boys brother, the boy bit his lip, remembering the night before, wondering what had happened. His brother just looked at him with empty eyes. "He do no be knowing how to kill a man, boy, or if he do be knowing then he do be craven," Tawin's voice had dropped from a growl to an icy calmness. The boy shuffled his feet, this was bad, Tawin was beyond angry.
Tawin moved towards him, as quick as a snake. The boy jumped but Tawin just drew the knife from the boys sleeve and handed it to the boy. "I do be thinking, you do know how to kill a man, you should be showing him," with a glare that left clear his meaning in his eyes Tawin pushed the boy towards his brother.
The two boys watched each other for a second, both accepting their fate, a look that betrayed their connection. Then the boys eyes turned blank as he used the trick Kant had taught him, the trick that made him feel nothing. Tawin nodded approvingly and left.
It was a day or two later when Elina Sedai came again and the boy was summoned once more. He was informed that the innkeepers had decided there was nothing more they could teach him and Elina Sedai felt that he would be more use somewhere else. He was to go to the Grey Tower and take what he could from their training. He would leave the next day.
That night be was given a parchment by Elina Sedai, "Read this, memorise it and tomorrow morning destroy it. Your name is Nesir Aeser, this is your story."
Career History
- Drin
- Ji'val (2 April 2010)
- Swore to the Great Lord of the Dark
