Flashbacks raced through his mind while he lightly slept. They weren't the normal nightmares Gideon was comfortable with - they were too real. "What is your name!" He roared and cried out to the face before him in his heart. Glimpses of what he felt like were the love of his life slipped past him, and she stood summoning him beyond wooden beams collapsing in flames. The leather around his body felt like it was suffocating him. The hall before him grew too long and the smoke grew too thick.
He awoke gasping, finding himself under a tree and its cool refreshing shade near the midst of the cloud temple. Patting the cold swear off his brow, he was reminded of his facial disfigurement. Rugged hands checked his person, and he pulled out his only memory - A single piece of paper with words in blood, "The Red Faith".
Amnesia is a deadly thing for many, but those who suffer from it are none the wiser. Gideon Weaver had been a wanderer, looking for home which seems too far off in any direction to find. All he feels in his heart is a purified fire of righteous anger against his lost memories - and in his simplicity, he finds no peace. He knows one thing for certain, death is always near and he has the muscle memory to dance with its darkness. He might drink away his sorrow in the hopes his memory returns to him. Or, he might find service to a kingdom to call master.
