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Lord Fidel Threerivers' childhood was defined by the beginning of his lifelong fascination with shamanism. Where did that fascination begin? Well, that's guaranteed to be a good story if the way the Threerivers' older generation quickly smiles, deflects, and pivots on to the next topic is any indication. Or, for that matter, the handful of his early years where not a single one of them, not even his father the late Count of Highrock, deign to mention him in their white journals at all. Those minor details aside, he seems to have had a productive adolescence and spent years traveling throughout the northlands with a more worldly aunt, acquainting himself with the land and its people, not that he ever became a shaman. They tended to find his interest uncomfortable, if not altogether off-putting. By sheer dumb luck or some vague misfortune, Lord Fidel was away from Highrock when the short but bloody conflict with House Bellerive began, serving as a wilderness guide for Scholars studying unique fauna a month out from his ancestral home, only returning as the last body was buried beneath the earth. The weeks following were something of a helpless whirlwind for poor Fidel. Uninvolved as he was in governance due to certain gaps in his education, Fidel found himself losing his cool more than once in angry tirades and rants that likely complicated the peacemaking process rather than bringing his feuding older siblings back together in friendship as he would have liked. Before long, he found himself swept away to the newly founded House Charon to serve as his sister Magaen's advisor on all matters pertaining the superstitious common-folk of their new holding. Not that he prescribes to any of it himself, of course! Let's change the subject, shall we?

Accustomed to adventuring and life on the road, Fidel might be mistaken as a wandering bard for the rocky convergence of fashion and function that his personal style encompasses. He has an appreciation for the discarded and lost, often incorporating a stray swatch of pretty cloth or the occasional forgotten bloom into ensembles otherwise dominated by hardy practical fabrics and well-worn leathers. His densely coiled hair is as dark as the contents of a scholar's inkwell, his skin is the color of the clean earth from which all life springs, and his expressive brown eyes twinkle with a warm gleam not at all tempered by trivialities such as age or in depth self-reflection.

Colorful and charismatic, Fidel possesses a flitty friendliness capable of winning him many supporters. Unfortunately, these positive attributes are not matched by any measure of wisdom or competence. In fact, they most frequently reveal themselves right when he's about to do something incredibly foolish! Error-prone with only a fine-tuned facade in place of true self-confidence, Fidel struggles to reconcile with a delicate personal nature which, upon coming up against a challenge that scares him or that can't be easily overcome, reduces him to bitter (fantastic, nonsensical) diatribes and childlike fits of frustration.