Despite the lawless nature of the Underhaven, Vhaelor has took it upon himself, like many others, to ensure the safety of the residents within. Acting as a hunter of heads, for those those that subtract from the greater good of the underhaven, he ventures out in hope to make the city a little safer bit by bit.

As a child, his parents worked alongside Broghed Hornforge, doing maintainence, and he was tasked with sorting through scrap to be melted down into useful bits and workable steel. One day, he rummaged through a pile too urgently, carelessly, and found his grip around the hilt of a long discarded and broken blade. As he touched it, it glowed a hot red, as it bound itself to him. From the pile, many pieces of scrap was drawn to the blade, melting, and becoming what seemed to be true, solid steel. In awe of what appeared in his hand, the blade whispered to him, or rather, something within it. It wished for a better host, a spirit with no name, that lived in equal parts within hosts of persons and weapons.

Rumor spread quietly, and rarely, of this event as he was careful to speak of it, however, Hazel Hammie had had caught wind. Excited as she was to discuss such, she came across Vhaelor, and spoke to him of how this was quite the blessing. She spoke of how he could use this gift for good, and was truly the catalyst for him aspiring to be a hero one day.

Now, years later, he may have lost sight of what is good, and what is bad. The lines are blurred as to what justice truly is. Little does he know, the spirit with no name, which has taken a liking to him, is in fact Solrender.