Class: Cleric 1
Nathan's clothing is simple, gray, black, drab and ragged for the most part. His armor dented and corroded, yet serviceable still.
Without his armor, his flesh is not much better off, his face bare scars long since healed, his eyes are the milk white of cataract and blindness, his long unkempt hair was once black but now is tinged with gray of age.
Nathan's mental stability is always in question. Weather he be talking to his self or having wild mood swings, he is obviously broken in some way. Most of the time Nathan is the healer he once was, tending to the sick and attempting to stop any more harm from coming to those that can not defend them selves. He has learned to make due with what he has at hand and to use what ever resources he can, despite the nature or approval of others.
Nathan was and is a traveling healer. Once upon a time he lived in a small hamlet, he tended the sick and injured around the country side and lived a happy quiet life with his wife and daughter. He tinkered in the healing arts but never took the mantel of cleric, feeling potions and stitches were enough for him to know. A lone traveler stumbled into town one day, the man was sick and naturally Nathan took him in and began healing him, at lest he tried too. The mans illness was nothing physical but like a curse. Days after coming to town the man died, Nathan and the locals buried him in there small cemetery, they said the old words and a few even cried for they were simple folk and any death was mourned. The mans curse was yet done with him, as the night fell, the mans body rose. The now undead shambled towards the town square, returning to the last place it had known in life, much to Nathan's surprise. The undead thing banged around town causing damage to a few homes as it ran into windows and doors. It over turned a cart here, knocked over a stand there, but for the most part seemed oblivious and confused. Of course, simple folk being what they are, a mob formed quickly. The newly formed undead never had a chance before the fear and hatred of the town mob. They hacked it to pieces and burnt it in the square. Being simple folk, they needed some one to blame, things like this don't just happen, the man had a fever and a sickens when he came into town, but that don't make you undead and it doesn't kill you, so the mob turned on Nathan and his family. They marched upon his home and with burning torches set it a light. The timber and thatch building went up like kindling, Nathan attempted to rush his family out only to be met by pitchforks and scythes. They struck him down upon his door step. His wife and child tried to flee out the back but the roof chose that moment to fall in. Nathan watched as the falling timbers and fire took his love and the wave of heat, ash and burning splinters took his sight. Something broke in him, and he unleashed power he never knew he had, a black wave of death washed over everything around him. Most of the mob simply died right there. A few limped away. Rain and time calmed the fire enough for him to crawl towards the remains of his wife and child. Ash and bone, and a melted locket, these are the things of memory for him. In time he learned a balance of things. His hatred for those simple people, by there need for help and healing. He wonders the country side now, no home or need for one. The twin serpents whisper to him, two voices, light and dark always within him and all things. His only company that of the ghosts he hears and sees.