Character History
Ilhor's early childhood, much unlike his late, was mostly typical for a Vantha boy of Skyglow. His father was a sculptor of some renown, though not extremely famous or highly regarded, and his mother was a carver, more out of need than artistic endeavor.
His earliest childhood memories, and his happiest ones, maybe of all his lifetime, involve him and his overly loving and caring mother. He can still remember the gentle tone of her voice whenever she spoke to him, the warmth of her body when he held and hugged him, the softness of her skin when they touched. Up to this day, he can close his eyes and recall her form, more of an idealized memory than a human shape, more like a ray of sun melting the frozen soil, waking the flowers sleeping underneath, and them raising and blooming and glowing in all the colors of the Aurora.
If his mother in his mind was the sun melting the snow, his father was more like a cold, unmovable, immense, piece of Icestone. He barely talked, or moved his lips for any matter really, certainly not to smile. He was not violent, not physically anyway, but he was intimidating, and his eyes, those deep, serious, glowing eyes, their expressions and colors, said more of his thoughts and induced more fear and respect, than his words could ever do, or his hands ever inflict.
But, above all, he was a man of hard work. And expected his son to be as well. As soon as he was able, he took his son, barely a child of seven, to work with him and learn by his side. His teaching methods, involving ignoring him for days if he made a mistake, or a simple nod of approval if he did something right, seemed to have an effect on his son, despite what most would have believed. Though he was not happy, he learned quickly and came to truly and deeply respect, admire, and love, his father, who, despite all his coldness and distance, cared for him deeply.
Complementing his father’s teachings on technique, his mother took it upon herself to teach him how to express himself through his craft, showing him how to carve small but intricate details on his sculptures to mark his thoughts and feelings, or the sculpture’s, for that matter.
Life seemed to carry on uneventfully, until a typically cold evening on the Fall of 506 AV. After working all day, Ilhor and his father started for the way home, totally exhausted. Yet, as they neared their Arvinta, they started to notice something odd. The typical orange glow on the windows, due to the fire burning inside that his mother never failed to light well before their usual arrival time, didn’t seem to be there. With a growing sense of worry, father and son entered the house and called out. Nobody answered. Hastily, they entered the main bedroom, and found her laying on the bed, pale and still, like made of wax. For a moment they hesitated, until they noticed her eyes moving to stare at them, colored in a terrible, outwordly, sickly brown, signaling the most intense sense of fear. Yet she didn’t move, or talked, or responded in any way to their cries. She only moved her eyes from father to son, in a strange pattern, like trying to communicate something. When they tried to move her, her eyes turned totally white. And shortly after she stopped moving them. As Ilhor was desperately trying to help his mother, his father, barely holding back his tears and with a strange, bloody red color in his eyes, lifted his son in his arms and said in a broken voice, only partially caused by grief or fear “Come, we have to get a healer”.
Ilhor cannot recall anything that happened next, only screams and a wall of tears, covering every other word or image. The only thing he does remember is a slim, short silhouette over the bed on which her mother was laying, speaking a few words that seem in his mind to have no vibration, like coming out from the room itself, “She is dead, by what seems to be a bizarre suffocation, like her lungs wouldn’t decide to move”.
Ilhor did his best to move on, though his grief was too much to heal anytime soon. And he might not have been able to pull himself together, if not for the sake of his father, who, since his wife’s death, seemed totally distracted and more distant than normal, barely able to keep going with his job or parental duties. Ilhor took it upon himself to help him, help both of them, get through this tragedy. And, indeed, after a couple of years, things seemed to start getting back to normal.
Until one summer’s day on 509 AV. Ilhor was returning from the markets, after having finished an errand, when, without any interim memory, he found himself laying on the frozen ground on some remote and distant part of the city, at what seemed a couple of hours later. When trying to get up he felt an excruciating pain, coming from every part of his body, and for half an hour he was unable to move.
Then, with great effort, he struggled to his feet and tried to remember what had happened, yet he could remember nothing at all, apart from being at the market. When he regained his strength and the pain subsided, he returned to the market to ask if anyone had seen anything, but nobody did, though many people saw him leaving the market and heading back home.
Shaking with fear and pain, he run as fast as he could to his house, and told his father everything that had happened. As he talked, he could see his father face, up to this point still and cold, starting to tighten and a deep worry was shaping up. Yet, when he spoke, he only said “Nothing to worry about, you probably just slipped on the way home and hurt your head, you can lose your memory that way, or even worse. Consider yourself lucky”. And then added, in a tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer “Go to bed, it’ll heal faster. You should be ok by tomorrow”.
Indeed, the next day he felt much better, at least until he show a carefully folded piece of paper next to his bed. Before he could think or feel anything, he unfolded it in a hurry and looked at the deeply pressed, scarring letters that were written on it. Waiting a moment for his conscious mind to kick up, he started reading
My dear son, I had to leave Avanthal by ship today, and I am going to be away for some time. In the meanwhile, I have left you some mizas to get on by for some weeks, plus my sculpting tools to assist you on your work. I’m sure you will be able to support yourself using your craft while I am gone. Your mother’s love, and mine, will eternally be with you, and may they light your path
For weeks Ilhor troubled his mind with what had happened, trying to puzzle together all he knew. Yet, all these terrible things were beyond the comprehension of his young mind, and soon, the money his father left him with started to run out, and he had more immediate concerns to take care of. He started creating ice sculptures and selling them on the market, illegally, since he wasn’t at the appropriate age, and didn’t own his own stall or shop. Nevertheless, almost everyone knew his tragedy, and the Icewatch turned a blind eye, and some even helped him by buying some of his creations. Of course, others were not so sympathetic, and tried to take advantage of his dire need for money, by buying his sculptures and reselling them at much higher prices at their stalls, just a few feet down the road. To cope with all that, Ilhor started to pay closer attention to people, tried to read them, and then used this knowledge to barter with them.
Many years passed, and it was a few days before of his coming of age, that Ilhor allowed himself to come to the realization that his father might never come back. Yet, he did not weep in this thought, and it didn’t frighten him. No, what he felt was different, it was a deep, all-encompassing anger towards the mysterious source of his family’s tragedies and the suffering, the injustice, that it had inflicted upon him.
And today, after coming of age, before the sea his father has sailed on, he made a promise. A promise to find out what happened, and to seek revenge, no matter what he had to do to achieve it.
Yet, for the time being, and with barely enough money to sustain himself, the only thing he can hope for is to get a job soon, a legal one, so he can start setting aside some money to cross the sea, and follow in his father’s footsteps.
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