To harness the natural aether and power of the Mother Ocean and transfer that into aether-powered weaponry or ship engines is a useful skill indeed, but one notoriously hard to master. The Whitemane Clan of Windkeep have a long dynasty of aether-forgers, renowned for their craftsmanship and skill in utilizing their connections to the oceans, and Evander is no exception. Though not immediately useful in combat, he can create works of both beauty and power through his connection to the Moon and the aether of Mother Ocean when given appropriate time. More than anything else, it speaks to the understanding and respect held by Evander to the power of aether.

Additionally, this skill allows Evander to repair aether weaponry and aether engines.

By shutting his eyes, and closing himself off to the world around him, Evander can 'connect' to the waves of the oceans beneath his feet. In doing this, he gains a sensory knowledge of what lays around the vessel - meaning he can feel threat should danger be laying in wait, for example.

This ability also allows Evander to 'overclock' the aether engine within a vessel, allowing it to push the ship faster or to strengthen the magical barriers protecting it from assault. This is a particularly demanding task, however, and one reserved for life or death situations. In most cases of the application for this ability - particularly when used to boost a magical barrier - it has resulted in the user falling comatose.

“The Whitemane Clan claims to trace back their descendants over a thousand years, to the very first Whitemane, the great Chief Halmar, who is said to have lived sometime between 430-500AF. Though what records remain from such an ancient time are understandably few, each new generation of the Whitemane Clan passes down the stories and tales of the old hero, which have likely evolved considerably from their first telling.

As any Whitemane would currently tell it, the great Halmar Whitemane was a man of considerable power, through a strong connection to the Aether of the Moon. It was said he was proof that supreme deities did indeed exist, for no man could hold such wisdom and power through any natural means (a complimentary exaggeration, no doubt). They tell tales of Halmar slaying great beasts of the ocean and frozen wastes, and protecting his homeland from early incursions of ships from the Imperial Sea. Indeed, he established himself as a natural-born leader throughout the Frozen Seas, and founded the castle of Whitekeep, the ancestral home of the Whitemane Clan. Now nothing more than broken stone and ruined halls, it was once a mighty castle that sat atop a glacier, said to be seen from miles on all sides.

Yet the true talents of Halmar Whitemane, it is said, lay within Aether Forging. Creating works of both beauty and power, the great Halmar was unrivalled in his craft. He forged ‘Aetherius’, an aether longsword of great splendour that would go on to become the heirloom of the Whitemane Clan, sitting proudly in their great hall at Whitekeep. He commissioned works for the rich and mighty in not only the frozen sea, but elsewhere also, with the nobility of the Imperial Sea being particularly drawn to the foreign craftsman. Great wealth was acquired, and Halmar not only expanded Whitekeep, but took an interest in the developing town of Windkeep also. Windkeep, at the time, was a developing trading city that mined aetherite as a source of income, and the shrewd Halmar knew its growth presented an opportunity. Buying property, the seeds of the Whitemane’s influence within Windkeep were sewn.

Most of the stories surrounding Halmar are mere hearsay, and his greatness is no doubt exaggerated significantly. Whether he was truly as magnificent as the stories say, none will know, but there was no questioning he was a skilled aether craftsman. Importantly, this was a skill he passed down to his children, and his children to their own. This is how the family built their wealth, and their power. Great artisans of aether, moulding and sculpting weapons and engines for divers seeking to pursue fame and riches, the Whitemane’s profiting from their ambition.

Over the years, the family became accustomed to their wealth and luxury. They abandoned the old halls of Whitekeep, proving far too difficult to maintain and keep warm, and instead moved permanently to their estate within the now-grown trading city of Windkeep. The family became something resembling more the Imperial Nobility under the Starwind monarchy than a family of crafters from the Frozen Sea, and as generation after generation was born into increasing wealth and stories of their ancestors greatness, the Whitemane Clan developed feelings of superiority and entitlement. They lost touch with their fellow inhabitants of the Frozen Sea, typically hardy folk with little use for great wealth, and became vain creatures huddled around their roaring fires, shielded from the biting colds of the frozen sea.

Though the city of Windkeep has always proudly declared to be independent of any monarchy similar to that found in the Imperial Sea, it was for a time ruled in all but name by the Whitemane Clan. Their wealth afforded them influence and sway over the direction the city took, and the family revelled within the power they had achieved. For hundreds of years, the family remained one of the most powerful and well-known throughout the frozen sea, fuelled entirely by their skill of mastering aetherite and their connection to the Sun and Moon to create aether-infused weaponry and ship-engines.

It was in the year 1444AF, however, that the Whitemane Clan began their fall from grace. Having been secretly in chaos for several decades after increasing numbers of the family were born ‘without a sign’, and those being born under the Sun or Moon having seemingly weakened connections to aether, the family was in a state of panic. For near fifty years their output of aether-infused goods for divers and the rich alike had decreased, and their wealth was deteriorating rapidly as they continued to spend as lavishly as they once had to keep up appearances. Facing the prospect of having to sell their estate, and financial ruin, the vain family did not question the mysterious stranger that offered them salvation.

A man of unknown origin and name, now-known to belong to the cult of the ‘Black Hand’, approached the family with an offer of salvation. How exactly this deal came to be is unknown, and indeed it is even uncertain how exactly this cult came to be aware of the dire situation the family found itself in, but nonetheless, an offer of membership was made.

As we today are aware, this was a dark and evil organisation indeed that operated beneath the very fabric of society within the frozen seas. Their crimes many, and all depraved in equal measure, it was their act of ritual sacrifice alongside the Whitemane Clan that gained them notoriety across the seas. It was uncovered that, in an effort to restore their connection to the aether, the leaders of the Whitemane household had resorted to sacrificing, and in some documented cases, even devouring individuals known to have ‘strong aether connections’. They were misguided in their belief that this would, in some twisted manner, restore their once-powerful connection to aether and allow them to escape destitution.

The family would face much more than destitution however, for in the last days of 1461AF, their horrid crimes were discovered in what would become one of the largest scandals in the history of the frozen sea. To have a family of leaders act so heinously was shocking indeed, and retribution was swift. Property and wealth was confiscated, leaders were imprisoned, and ‘mob justice’ often brought about its own revenge on the streets of Windkeep.

For the frozen sea, their individualism was reinforced. The perils of dynastic leadership exposed and their natural suspicion of authority was vindicated in the strongest terms.

There has never quite been a family like the Whitemane’s, and the name continues to hold infamy, certainly within the Frozen Sea. Whether there are any wretched members of the dynasty left, I myself find this hard to believe.”

- Albright Featherwind on the various histories and accounts of Clan Whitemane in his historical book, These Chilled Winds: A History of the Frozen Sea, published 1589AF.

Born during a typically cold night under the sign of the Moon, and amongst the glaciers of the frozen sea, Evander Greyhold, as he was named, was raised in a small community on an otherwise derelict ice-cap. Quite different from the lives of his forefathers some two hundred years ago, Evander learned quickly to fend for himself. In a land where one mistake can lead to your grisly death at the hands of a beast of the snows, Evander felt comfortable relying as little on others as possible. He wanted to be sure that his fate was in his own hands, and should he meet his end, it would be at the very least on his own terms. Surprisingly mature thoughts for a child, certainly, but life in the frozen sea allows for little else.

The village in which Evander was raised had a population of no more than thirty or so people, and was entirely self-sufficient. Everybody knew everybody, and Evander’s father was the local smith. He repaired everything from fishing rods, to hunting spears, to boat-hulls for the local fishermen. On the rarer occasions, he would entertain divers from foreign seas, on the hunt for some ancient relic or city. It was in his dealings with these divers that he could truly fulfill his potential, repairing works of aether-infused weaponry and upgrading ship-engines for a very agreeable sum.

When he grew old enough to help around the settlement, Evander opted to aid the fishermen as they scoured the local waters for prey. While they dove under, Evander was tasked with watching the vessel. A simple enough job, it nonetheless kept him busy, and it wasn’t long until he naturally grew into the role of a sailor - helping to navigate the reasonably calm waters around the glacier itself. Most of his time, however, was in fact spent helping his father make his repairs. His father often spoke of the importance in Evander learning the skill - which had been passed down for generations. These experiences early in his childhood would hold him in good stead for his later development as a helmsman, and engineer.

Something that had always intrigued Evander was the prices his father set for repairs, especially the particularly generous prices for repairing the more intricate and aether-infused works. Though he had been raised on a quiet ice-cap, several trips to the port city of Windkeep had taught him, if nothing else, that men of even less skill to his father could make a killing. Far, far more than his father ever sought to earn. When confronted on the matter, Evander would only ever receive a reply that more-or-less always amounted to “Happiness is more important than wealth”. Sentimental talk from an old man, he thought.

By his sixteenth birthday, Evander was already confident in his skill as a craftsman, and he knew he could make something of himself in the city of Windkeep. It was a hub of activity for divers travelling to and from the region, and his services repairing their aether gear would allow him to settle there in no time. So it was, that despite considerable urging from his father, Evander made the journey to Windkeep when the next diver passed through en-route.

For near two years he remained in Windkeep, developing the skill taught to him by his father, and making a respectable sum of money. He even managed to purchase some modest accommodation, and while it was only a few rooms, it was his. Life seemed destined to improve, and the motives behind his father's self-imposed exile why his father continued to remain a mystery to Evander. The discovery of these motives would come not long after his twentieth birthday.

Having kept in regular correspondence with his father, updating him on his successes within Windkeep, Evander received a letter that appeared much like any other. As Evander tore open the letter and began to read it, however, his life changed before his very eyes. Telling him of the history of the Whitemane Clan, a name Evander was already familiar with through folklore, and of Evander’s direct descent through the family was nothing less than devastating. How does anybody react to the news they are from a cursed and despised bloodline? Disgust, guilt, anger at his father, and a myriad of other emotions ran through him for several days. His mood often changed from despair, to anger, to despair. Resolving to finally confront his father over the tale, he returned to his home.

He found it was too late, however, with the letter evidently being sent not long before his passing. Filled with rage, confusion, feelings of betrayal and even disgust at his own blood - he cursed the memory of his father. He considered the man selfish. Selfish for keeping the truth hidden for so long, selfish for ruining his chance of success in life, and selfish for waiting until he was not long for the present world to do so.

These feelings of anger and betrayal were soon replaced by the overriding sensation of guilt, however. Was his strong connection to the aether actually a result of the sacrifices of innocents? Whatever the answer, Evander condemned himself and rejected his powers over the aether within the oceans. Unable to bring himself to use them, he had now found himself thrust on an entirely different path in life in the space of only a few days. All because of one letter.

He caught the next vessel passing by his home on the glacier, which was headed for the capital of the Imperial Sea. Here, he found several odd-jobs aiding on cargo ships and working in several dockyards to pass the days. Yet when he, alone one evening, recalled the divers that so often frequented Windkeep, Evander knew he had the answer. It was true, he had little combat experience outside of the frozen sea, but if his life was to come to an honourable end as a Diver, so be it.

With that, eight years ago, Evander joined the Divers Guild under his true name, Evander Whitemane. Since then, he has become an accomplished helmsman and is talented in guiding vessels through perilous waters and against beasts from the deeps.