Born an orphan by the name of Jack Scott on December 3, 1978, Jack was semi-adopted at the age of five when he deserted his orphanage and was taken in by an old man who found him in the streets. The old man and his son took Jack in and taught him how to survive the cold winters on the streets of Chicago.
All was well until Jack's eighth birthday, when his life both truly began and ended horribly at the same time. He had just woken up that morning when the staccato sound of gunfire shook him to complete alertness. He ran to see what was going on just in time to see both his adoptive father and brother fall to the ground in a heap, each shot several times. Standing there watching their blood stain the cement, his heart and mind shattered, freeing the fae soul within him to take control. He suddenly looked around at a world full of color, both incredibly beautiful and horribly frightening at the same time. He ran to his companions' side, kneeling next to them to frantically try to do something. He almost did not recognize them. The old man had grown three feet and his skin was a blue color that had nothing to do with the amount of blood he had lost. The small cane the man had always carried with him had transmuted into a large sword, the most deadly looking weapon Jack had ever seen. The troll was dead, but his wounds were not what had killed him. Jack rushed to his brother's side. James...beautiful James, who never had trouble making friends, or mkaing people do what he wanted them to do, who had been Jack's closest friend...he was even more beautiful as he lay there dying. James had never been much for words, but the few times Jack had been in trouble James was always there somehow, protecting him, driving away the bullies who seemed to arrive and intimidate every time he had something approaching new. The shirt James almost always wore had changed into something far finer, but still rugged and wear-worn...a black tunic with a silver unicorn embroidered on the front.
James was still alive...barely. All Jack could do however was watch his friend die, the police wouldn't care about a street family on the bad side of Chicago and there was never any money for the hospitals. He knelt and wept beside James and as he sat there he noticed that there was extremely little blood on his friend, in fact...James had barely even been hit by the storm of bullets. One was still lodged in his chest though and slowly James' body grew colder, his face more ashen, as the bullet slowly sucked the life from him. He pressed something into Jack's hand, whereas before it was just an old Mont Blanc pen, now it was a keen-edged sword. His last words to Jack were thus, said sadly but with a content smile:
"Jack, you see now, you see the world for what it is. I plead you take my only friend from before...the only memory I have of times with more joy than those spent with you. Please, take Verana for me...she will protect you if you trust her. Fare...well....my.....friend."
With those words, James Belotaine ap Scathach, who had been Jack Scott's only true friend, passed away into memory, never to be heard from or seen in this world again. Looking up through tears of anguish, Jack saw a sight that would scare even the most stout of heart, a HUGE monstrosity was towering over him, holding a gun. The monster had just risen from checking the troll and was now looking down at the young, newly chrysalized pooka. He looked once at the fallen Sidhe, his lips twisting into a sneer and then he pointed the gun at Jack. Jack didn't even hear the sound of the gun firing, he was only able to sit there, weeping uncomtrollably as the monster fired a single round, hitting him in the right shoulder, flinging him back against the pavement. The monster turned with a chuckle, and left him for dead. The explosion of pain was nothing compared to the sudden icy shock he felt, like being thrust into the frigid waters of Lake Michigan in the dead of winter.
Fortunately, the bullet did not lodge in the young pooka's body and went all the way through Jack's small frame. A large portion of the damage was already done though. The cold iron bullet had already worked a small part of its misery. To this day Katel bears a greyish puckering scar on his right shoulder and a much larger one directly behind it on his back, the feathers of his fae mein serving to hide it somewhat, prompting him to leave his tunic on most of the time.
Coming back to consciousness several hours later, Jack managed to find the address of his father's relative in Los Angeles and gradually made his way halfway across the continent, showing up at his cousin's door one day the next year, half starved to death and in danger of forgetting himself. The small group of fae that lived together at this address was a rag-tag group and very down on their luck. However, they were friends, and that was what Jack needed most at the time. Verana never left his side.
It was in LA that Jack was taken to the court of the local Duke, and sained soon after. His name forever more to the fae would be Katel Zenaht.
After living in LA for two years, Katel's world was rocked again to its foundation. Coming home one night after being sent to the corner store for some bread, he turned the last corner before his new home to the sight and sound of fire engines and a large blaze...the fire coming out of the window of his apartment. He sank to his kness in the street, aghast...not again...this couldn't happen again...where were the ones who said they would protect us?...where were the knights?...where were the rulers who said they cared as much for everone as they did for themselves? THE BASTARD POINTY-EARED LIARS LET THEM DIE!! His anger mounted and he used it as a shield against the pain of losing everyone he had ever known as friends yet again...the mysterious Sluagh Ambra, who had taught him how to get around without making any noise...the kind Satyr Desie who would open her door to anyone in need...the rabbit Pooka Blaze who had taught him how to move really quickly if need demanded...all of them trapped...inside the inferno...
After LA, Katel saw no point in staying anywhere long enough to make friends, they'd just die after all. He moved around constantly, not staying in any one city longer than a month at a time. His travles took him all over the US and even to foreign lands...he visited most of Europe, parts of Asia and even Australia. His wandering heart was more akin to an Eshu than a Pooka but he couldn't care less, he was moving around, having fun, playing mostly mean pranks, after all, he wouldn't be here in a month. The one place he did stay longer than a month was Spain, where a young female Sidhe of House Fiona took a liking to his brusque and persuaded him to stay for almost a year. Eventually he did leave and continued on his way.
Now Katel is a bit older, a little wiser, and even more confused than ever before in his life. He decided more than two years ago that he wanted to be around other people again and came back to the US, his travels leaving him with no noticeable accent and the only things he carried back to remind himself of his travels were Verana, who had never left his side, and a collection of postcards from around the world. He lives in New Bremen, GA and has lived there for well over a year now. In that time he's almost left numerous times but stubbornly stuck to his resolution. Each trial has come shortly after another friend died.
However, now he can keep his friends alive...he hopes...and he'll do it by any means neccessary, good, evil, or otherwise. Because they've failed him numerous times in the past, the Sidhe are not to be counted on in his book, so he'll protect those he can himself.
Recently Katel has been gifted with the Freehold of Falcon's Rest, he's still unsure why. After restoring it as a place of safety for all Kithain and the defeat of a Fomorian invasion (partly with his help), the political landscape in the county of Moonsilver shifted, leaving the county with two Baronies. Falcon's Rest resides in the northern such Barony. Upon declaration of this shift, the new Baron, Yves Lesage (formerly Katel's noble advisor) named three Knights to be taken for the new Barony, two Sidhe by the names of Tariel and Brie Connelly, and Katel. Now a Knight and wearing the insignia of what he once blamed and hated for all his troubles, he has to search for new meaning for himself and redefine what it means to be "noble".
Slightly smaller than his mortal appearance, Katel's hair becomes a very soft silver-grey coat of feathers, when the feathers are lifted, a layer of white down can be seen underneath. A prominent white streak starts at the back of his head and runs down to a shock of white just above and between his eyes. His eyes are even more green and he wears a comfortable and beaten up pair of brown breeches and calf-high boots. Verana is always at his hip.
AIM: flamingsheep
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