Far to Tharador’s East is the continent of Edrador. There in the great desert that was once the Anshani Empire, a great civilization of enormous prowess and technological advancement that suddenly disappeared in Tharador’s Second Era. All that was left was their servants: the automaton Soulforged. For centuries the Soulforged wandered as the surrounding states warred for the suddenly vacant land, and the fierce battles rendered the land almost inhospitable.
The Soulforged created their own state in the middle of this: Automatia. A vast expanse of desert running along the single fertile riverland in the fallen empire. Wreathe was one of the soldiers that fought against foreign invaders trying to take the Soulforged away from their home, either wishing to destroy them or to occupy the fertile riverlands that they took. Wreathe slew many mortals in his time, though as centuries progressed his oldest memories began erasing themselves, as did this happen to all the Soulforged. His life was forgotten and even the Soulforged leaders began forgetting many of the foundations their civilization was built upon.
Many Soulforged worry that a day draws near where all their memory may fade, and they will simply wake up like newborn babes, oblivious to the world. They call this concept the “Mind Death” and many of their own researchers have spent centuries trying to halt or better understand it, but with failing minds of their own they make very slow progress. Thus Wreathe opted to travel to the Land of the Wise, Tharador. There many keen and brilliant minds might better understand his people’s plight. So he found himself after years of searching in the University of Ardris, prostrating himself before the Headmaster Barandir. Barandir was intrigued by this creature: he had always heard of the Soulforged but never seen them in person. He agreed to take on Wreathe’s pleas, provided Wreath would act as his personal assistant and bodyguard, a loyal hound by his side.
Wreathe agreed, and has thus spent several years with Barandir, aiding in research pertaining to his own people, as well as many that are unrelated. This frustrates Wreathe exceptionally, for he knows each spent is a year of memories forgotten. So he grins and bears it, acting as a lackey and at times a warrior for Barandir, slaying beasts that need slaying, gathering things that need gathering and participating in experiments that would potentially melt the innards of any organic beings. Wreathe is feared by students for his intimidating appearance, and his silent and cold demeanour certainly don’t help either. He believes that the less new memories he makes the better, hoping it might slow forgetting old ones. Thus he tries to live an incredibly boring and quaint lifestyle, sticking to a regimented schedule where every day blurs together with the last. A cure will come soon, he hopes.
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