He started as a child, and he was ugly. His deformed features repulsed all those who approached him, screaming in shock when they saw that one of his ears of a larger size. The hair that was supposed to be on the top of his head grew in abundance elsewhere.
His eyes squinted from a sunlight that nobody saw, and his hands were as gnarled as the trees in Necrovion.

He was born of average parents, of average attractiveness, and of average wealth. Their mediocrity pained the young boy, for to him mediocrity was a gift given to only the chosen, of which he longed to be. He hid his face from a young age, covering it with cloth. When he wandered around Marind Bell, people would hear his stifled breathing, and move out of the way, so that they would not have to see his face.

He grew up in this way, until the fateful day when he was wandering down by the edge of the lake. He approached the edge of the water, as he did on other days, but unlike his other trips, he decided to look deep in the water. He took of his cloth, and looked down. First, shock overtook him, and then a scream snuck through his grimy lips, and he closed his eyes. The image, however, would not be shut out so easily.

It burned and burned, and he hit himself on the forehead, attempting to get the image out of his mind. "No! No! No!" he cried, with each hitting himself harder, until he fainted. The men came running, but when they saw who it was lying there, they averted their eyes and continued on.

The villagers did not know what to do. He clearly could not stay in the village, and the villagers were tired of looking at him. They held a council, and they agreed to banish him to a cabin on the far reaches of their village. They would lock the door, and pretend the problem did not exist.

They gathered the poor boy, and did as they promised, locking the door to the cabin, and forgetting about the key. They elected a blind representative to slip food and water in the window each night.

Time went by, and the boy became a man.