Tristan
AppearanceBarely even out of his second decade, Tristan is almost startlingly young for the sharp intellect that glitters in the rich viridian of his gaze, alien and crystalline in its intensity. His features are handsome in a classic fashion, all straight lines and hard features. The clothes that adorn his lithe frame are in a somewhat aristocratic style, with breeches of dark brown and a doublet of purplish blue. Other than a small leather pouch at his waist and satchel slung across his shoulder, he seems to be unarmed, though he does not have the air of a noncombatant about him.
Background
The progeny of one of the disturbingly refined noble families of Nidal, Tristan was raised in the capital of Pangolais, where light and freedom are equally rare commodities. As with his father before him, Tristan was enrolled in arcane tutelage from a very early age, though he was blessed with an aptitude for the eldritch that allowed him to swiftly outpace his parents. A free spirit and pragmatist both, the young man turned his dark tutelage from its intended purpose and adapted it to suit his own wishes, that of whimsical illusions and amusing trickery. But rebellion is not tolerated anywhere in Nidal, least of all the hushed home of the Black Triune. It became apparent to Tristan that he would not be able to stand the oppressive life that was accepted as the norm, and was simply biding his time for the chance to flee.
It was then that he heard the soft whispers, spilling into his mind late at night just before sleep claimed him. They claimed to be the words of the Moon God, and offered just the opportunity that he so desperately desired. Readily agreeing, Tristan followed the directions of the voice, making his way to a secluded garden home to a small pond, as still and cold as shadow. In it was the reflection of the full moon, its pale light shining in the glassy black surface of the water. Small at first, as Tristan watched the moon swelled to eclipse the entire surface of the pool, darkness displaced by light. He waded out to the deepest section, treading water until he heard quiet encouragement imparted only to him. Allowing his body to sink into the abyss, Tristan found himself losing his awareness to slumber, awakening on a quiet meadow under the watchful eye of the moon.
