Barret awoke with a fear no man should ever feel. He felt the hole where the blade pierced him. The heavy armor they had him clad in. It’s cold. He saw flashes. Flesh morphing. His brothers in arms with that sickening blade piecing through their flesh and fusing them as they sloshed towards him. He fought. He was stabbed. He felt the life leave him but something… lingered. He stood, blade at the ready facing down the monstrosity once more. It screamed and fell. She did. Not a monster, a little girl. She cried on the ground ahead of him. He apologized but told her to get up. She had to run. They had to, before he lost consciousness again. The rest was a blur. He took her back to what he thought was a war camp but as he soon found out was a large village in the mountains. The war was over. Has been for a long time. No one knew much. The only woman who would hasn’t been back in a while. Told him about a city called Gi. Said to look for the Lore League. That if anyone would know anything it would be them and he could always help people while he did it. He learned quickly what exactly he was. A mass of magic and spirit energy and plants all bundled into a set of full body plate like sardines. His power was similar but different. He used to be a holy knight and the magic he did have felt holy but in a different light. A old light but new to him. Natural. Less like blinding radiance but like a glowing sun through the leaves of a mighty tree. But his mission stands. From what he has gathered a mass calling itself “Creation” has that a cursed weapon the call “The Stitcher” and was likely the one who assaulted his people. Who killed them and likely killed or injured the Ivory dragon the worshiped and took the magic cleaving blade they were set to create. He would take his vengeance and would avenge his fallen friends even if it killed him… again