I have lived for so long that all in this existence looks, sounds and feels dull. My bones are stained with sin, scorched from fires, broken by betrayal, soaked with the blood of those who stood in my way, and still I keep on fighting. I'm a world-weary and pessimistic individual who will stop at nothing to get what I want, and what I want is for it all to burn to the ground. I have lived for so long, my name has become meaningless; now, I use one I saw on a grave.