Once a vain young man of Farfolk descent, who valued his appearance above all else.
A then devout follower of the Church of Canon, and a former soldier of the Empire of Renatus; who deserted the army, and abandoned his faith - after having his face horribly disfigured in during the War of the Two Emperors.
He thought he was ready to give his life for his empire, but having barely survived and then be forced to live with a maimed face – that was more than the narcissist could bear.
In some sense; he did give up his live for the empire – He lost his sense of self when he lost his looks; feeling betrayed by the creator itself for allowing such pain to befall him. He now hides a face he no longer feels is his own; underneath a helmet of an army he no longer serves.
He become obsessed with decay and ruins – spending his time admiring rot in the forest floor or old remnants of once beautiful buildings; through reflecting on that – he slowly accepted the death of his old self, and opened up to faith again; not believe in Canonism and the seven skies afterlife that it promises – but a believe in the nameless godhood that is more akin to nature itself. Whose heaven is right here and now; ever embracing of all things rotting and ruined - things that would make him sick to his stomach; back when all he worshiped was his own mirror image.
Through living in the present, even now when the youth and beauty of his form is gone: He still finds himself feeling much lighter than he ever did before. Free from the heavy burden of past on his shoulders. His unhappy story not mattering now, his memories seeming barely more real than a dream of a past life.
He simply is, and so is the world around him, and that is all that matters.
