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Born a Fidante 23 long years ago, this lad fell into the hands of a southern tribe of Abandoned during the Tor-Southport war when but a toddler. Sold as a slave for a few years he ended up in the service of a Witch Doctor who was steeped in the Demonic traditions. While never truly allowed to forget his place as a slave, he gained great knowledge of the enemies of the Compact, of their religions and their tactics. For some reason the Witch kept him always near but never allowed him to be taught any vocation other than that of a menial servant. When found and rescued in a raid only a year ago, the young Fidante finds himself in a world he had only really been able to imagine, or dream of based on his most distant memories. Now suddenly a noble, instead of a slave. The fated Fidante has his future to find.

A fine specimen of male from the southern lands. A noble of roses, to be certain. Olive toned and tanned, blue eyed though they have the golden circle of dawn when the irises contract and at least a dozen odd, red flecks here and there amongst the bright blue. He has long, dark brown hair that is often kept tied back at the temples. There is an air of energy and curiosity about the man, young as he is, and a quiet and stern wisdom to his long brows.

His time spent amongst the savages has given the Fidante an edge. Of wisdom and insight, of wariness and wit, of readiness and willingness. Curiosity is his greatest spark and his greatest flaw... it may be easy to lure him into uncertain situations merely by the mystery of them. He has yet to finally find his way in life and so he seeks out new information, experts and interesting people at every opportunity. One thing is for certain, though perhaps fated, the man does not think the world or anyone in it owes him a thing. His freedom, his family, his nobility have all come with immense and unparalleled gratitude.