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Born the sole fatherless child of the tribe's most skillful tailor, Rasteon faced many trials as a youth. Having no Father willing to step forth and claim him, he was never granted his second name, and thus doomed to live forever with some small amount of shame. But even worse, as the only child in the tribe with dark hair and eyes, and with no men sporting either trait, he was further ostracized for being the clear result of demonic tampering. Called a demon spawn and a child of ill fates, he was forbidden to play with the other boys, refused all work and activities, and shunned in all communal gatherings. For the first 10 years of his life, the only person willing to show him any kindness was his mother. At the age of ten, Rasteon's mother took ill and died. This would have left him completely alone and without allies, had not the tribe's leader stepped in to adopt the boy. Seeing a great rage growing within him, the chief chose to harness that hate, rather than allowing it to fester. For long years he encouraged the boy in the ways of violence, teaching him patience and cunning, instilling him with discipline and providing him the tools to control his wrath. Wanting to keep him close, he assigned the growing teen the position of bodyguard to himself and his household. For 19 long years Rasteon has been the personal bodyguard for the Volkov family. He has watched Ruslan Volkov grow from an infant to manhood. he was there for the birth of each younger sibling. To the Volkov children he has been a quiet, protective presence ever vigilant and dependable. To the people, however, he is a much different beast. Thought of as the violent attack dog of the chief, he has been responsible for the bloody end of three separate coups, and thwarted no fewer than 13 known attempts at assassination. When he is released upon the public it is never a good thing, and his presence alone is now capable of discouraging all but the most desperate of attempts on the Marquis's life, at least when plotted by those who know the cost.

Coarse hair the deep black of coal falls in a short shag around Rasteon's head and nape, partially covering the wicked scar that swoops down from the center of his hairline and hooks sharply over his left eyebrow, cleaving across his temple and taking the top 5th off of his ear. Long healed, the pale old wound stands out starkly against the jagged black abstractions inked artfully across his cheeks and forehead, their complicated whirls and spikes curling around his soulless black eyes. Beneath the tattoos his features are lean and angular, with a proud nose, sharp cheekbones, and long jaw that gives him a distinctly predatory look. yet more tendrils of ink swirl back from his chin to trace the line of his jaw, trailing off down his neck and up to coil around his mismatched ears. Beneath the layers of dark abstract tattoos that crawl across his pale skin, his frame is neither overly broad nor notably tall, seemingly Average in most respects. Still, his average frame is densely packed with muscle, lean and hungry with the quick, half starved look of a wild animal.

Cold as the north wind, quiet as the grave, there is little evidence that Rasteon even possesses the capacity for kindness, forgiveness, or basic human compassion. Possessed of an icy intensity off-putting to all but the most stalwart of souls, some among his village have even gone so far as to doubt he is human at all. In fact, those warriors that have fought beside him swear that he is not. In combat his icy facade falls away and his depthless rage is released upon the world, the hatred for his fellow man coming across so starkly clear that those who have fought at his side often have difficulty meeting his eyes once the battle has concluded. But despite all that, and independent of any reservations those who have met him might have, one shining beacon of virtue does stand out among all of Rasteon's many flaws. He is honestly and truly a man of his word, who's oaths bind him more tightly than any chains. Those who are wise would make note of any promise he makes, for surely he intends to keep it.