* 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖓 / 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓

they came to kaerholt while young, essentially a runaway. they hail from a place that is considered beyond the mountains even for the, yknow, beyond-the-mountains people. the few poor sods that went there and survived the journey call it 'the bone road', and it's a pretty apt name. the tribes and clans that govern it rely almost solely on necormancy ( and adjacent domains of magic ) in order to control fate & the elements. think wildlings beyond the wall (eugh, asoiaf), the mortalitasi of nevarra in dragon age, or the folks past the dragon mountains in witcher.

their reasons for running away are nearly nowhere as tragic as they sound. they're just like, a fucking scorpio lmao.

in short, sevnah was recognized as what the bone-tribes call a 'sorcer' - someone imbued with the ability to manipulate the souls & passions of the living, not just remnants of the dead. as a consequence, they were meant to follow a strict set of rules, rites and traditions, as well as train in the footsteps of a carrion - an archdruid that oversaw the power and stability of all the clans. and here's the thing. sevnah just. didn't want to do that.

they hatched their escape plan in their early teens. the first step was to hide away in the mountain's cave-systems until a band of peddlers came through. generally, elden missionnaries and the like were killed outright if they tresspassed on the bone road (fuck colonists, am i right?) but smaller groups that traded for herbs and metals were allowed. sevnah stored themself in one of the crates in their cart, and only came out at night when the camp guards were asleep or distracted. after several weeks of this whack-a-mole, when they were already out of the remote mountain ranges and approaching larger civilizations, sevnah made themself known. they tried to persuade the travelling band to take them along. part of this effort involved showing their powers, which did... not go well.

hardcut to the biggest, most sudden reality check of their life. record scratch, freeze frame. 'what do you mean the rest of the world doesn't vibe with magic, especially mind/spirit magic?' anyway. sevnah was chased off by the travellers (rude fuckin' behaviour, mate). some people died, others were mangled, some mind-flayed forever. just a thursday in the life of a soul-eater.

fortunately, the whole debacle was close enough to sites of civilization that sevnah figured a way to get by, mostly by stealing and sapping souls for energy and hints on how the world works. they learned the ropes on how 'the others' live, basic technicalities of nearby cities and kingdoms, their customs and faiths. they were galled at how large the world is and how very similar at the same time. they found out about kaerholt and instantly thought, uh, no fucking way i'm headed there.

can you guess what happened next? can you?

a band of elden missionaries saw them huddling in an alley, pretending to be hurt, and went, welp, that's my good deed for the day. this child must be rescued and ordained as a maiden (Eugh, gender) of myne. so they scooped sevnah up and toddled pip off to kaerholt.

on the way, sevnah discovered two very interesting things: one, that soul-magicks does not work on elden orders as it does on other people, whether because of the flame's powers or the priests' training, and two, that being challenged into manipulating holy people is really fucking fun. they had a blast on the way to kaerholt, bit by bit increasing their reach into the intentions of the mendicant priests. by the time they arrived at the gates of kaerholt, sevnah was able to seed the intention into their mind that they shouldn't be a maiden of myne, but rather let loose into the city. and it worked. call that a nat 20.

to say they were hired as a servant is a bit of a stretch. they made themself be hired, purposeful and contrived. sure, in a way, the job was a last resort in a city that branded magic anathema - they could never use their wiles to attain the privilege and comfort they would've in another kingdom. at the same time, leaving felt like giving up, wasting the chance that was thrown at them. working so closely to the seat of power was the best opportunity. what better way to act upon the capital's stage than by infiltrating one of the merhcant houses? they scrubbed their own share of pots and pans back home, after all. it wouldn't be long until their true talents would be noticed.

obviously born in the vanbeerg family because identity theft is a smart bloke's prerogative and he couldn't pull it off. nerinizan here yonder was one of the younger siblings with no discerning traits (vibrating eye emoji... yet). they have always been spoiled, detached, and charming enough only when it suited their indulgences. a very unstable mix between a lannister and, idk, dorian gray.

all this is to say, there was never any indication that his loss would be a considerable one to the family capital. so when the hidden scales of power started tipping in kaerholt, the head of the merchant house at the time (mother, father, or both) decided it's time for a sacrifice. they wrapped nerin with a ribbon on top and peddled them off to the elden order. worst summer camp ever.

he was thirteen at the time. yikes.

the family probably saw it as a necessary evil. maybe they mourned them, or pled with the order for his return. maybe, in a perverse twist of fate, it was this choice that would end up protecting him. nerin never asked. the elden order is an insular one, secluded as it is gorged on its own superiority, so there were few chances to return home. he wouldn't have taken them anyway.

for a while, there was only the burning loss and envy. they were estranged from the life they had, the life they could've led, until nothing remained but that single point of cissure. from the first year in the eldrkirk, he was trained in different longings. sure, in the beginning there was bargaining with fate. there was a steady chain of attempts to bribe their direct superiors. it never led anywhere but to the punishment of the flame. ultimatley, their days as a novice in the votary were filled with mind games and acts of deceit, in an endless contortion to survive the order's demands and hide who they really were.

needless to break it to you, nerinizan is a sorcerer - though anyone from across the mountains would sneer at the title. it's more correct to say he has the ability for sorcery, a potential drowned and holed up inside them. they hid it for so long they couldn't master it if they tried.

because the Gods dance on men's graves and all, in an ironic way, him being given to the order was his ticket to salvation. no eldrkirk higher would guess a magicker in their midst, especially one who does not even attempt to exercise their powers. on top of that, nerinizan is a master of concealment and dissimulation - skills copped on early on in the merchant games, and then honed in order to survive the elden trials. he can be anyone, depending on how the light turns, and how the leads open to the safest way through.

so who are they at heart? nothing, really. they despise the eldrkirk and long to dismantle it. they despise the merchant houses and the mix between oligarchy and theocracy that runs kaerholt. they may even despise the city itself, and all the souls within it. and yet they remain, coveting small trinkets and pale gold. as a priest, they are corrupt and decadent, wielding their power only for their own pleasure. they have no goal that they could attain on their own and no fear that they could bother facing. left alone, they could remain a pawn. but in the right hands, they could be a dangerous instrument.