Jackreth Dunn never knew a family, the streets raised him instead with gutters, alleys, and sewer tunnels as his only shelter. He was never strong, never brave, but he was quick, quicker than hands reaching for him, quicker than blades meant to scare him off, and he learned early that survival favored those who waited, watched, and struck only when the odds were right.

So he stole - first coins, then purses, then anything that could be carried without slowing him down. When trouble came, he vanished into drains and darkness of the sewers. Over the years, theft turned uglier, and thugs who cornered him ended up with knives in their backs, and he was gone again down the drain, such sleezy tactics soon earned him the street name of "Sewer Jack".

One day, while moving through the tunnels, he was bitten by a rat, but it was no ordinary vermin, but something diseased, twisted, wrong. The change came slowly at first - sharper senses, faster reflexes, body that finally kept up with his instincts, and for a time, it felt like a blessing.

Then came the first full moon, and Jack lost himself. In a feral haze, he tore into a stranger a kill born of pure frenzy. Guards found him still wild with bloodlust, but in his fevered state he was easy to subdue and capture. When he came to his senses, he had tought that this is how his story ends, on the gallows. But no, the sentence was different - Shackled Legion - a chance for redemption, or death in service.