L O S T
From the ruins of Levia he rose, a sickly raven ascending from the desecrated land that once knew life.
His is the body which is crooked, bent under the weight of its affliction; Each step seems ragged, one foot seemingly lagging behind the other, and a rasp accompanies each stunted breath. An occasionally labored series of coughs shake his fragile frame, releasing saliva into the air as he unknowingly fails to cover his mouth. His body is gaunt, limbs like twigs and ribs threatening to poke through his chest. Face covered in oozing sores, eyes blood red where they ought to be white, there is no way for his affliction to go unnoticed lest he suffer to cover from head to toe.
So it is that he stumbles his way through the Galaxy, rasping his call to the lost and suffering...
