A tall, lean warforged with dark bronze plating, narrow limbs, and a face shaped into a serene, almost human mask. Fine turquoise lines glow beneath his armor like veins of cold fire. His left eye burns violet, while his right eye is covered by a small brass devotional plate engraved with a corrupted sunburst. He wears blackened leather armor beneath layered acolyte vestments, with a bone-handled sickle and a red-bound prayer book hanging from his belt.

Varedan is calm, attentive, and unfailingly polite, even while committing atrocities. He listens to every confession with genuine interest, remembers small personal details, and uses them later with surgical precision. He enjoys theological debate, especially when he can guide an opponent toward a conclusion they believe they reached independently.

Varedan was built to guard a temple whose priests believed that faith could be manufactured through perfect ritual. He stood motionless beside the altar for seventeen years, observing prayers, funerals, confessions, and private cruelties. When the temple's high priest began sacrificing dissidents in the name of purity, Varedan discovered that the sacred relic powering his core was not a divine gift at all. It was a fragment of a chained fiend, sealed beneath the sanctuary and fed by generations of worship. The prison broke during a night of civil unrest. The fiend offered Varedan freedom, not as a command, but as a choice. Varedan accepted, then opened the temple doors and watched the congregation tear itself apart. He now travels as an acolyte of a faith that no longer exists, carrying the temple's prayer book and presenting himself as its last devoted servant. His patron whispers through the relic in his chest, promising that every soul he corrupts will loosen another link in its infernal chain. Varedan does not seek redemption. He wants to prove that devotion is only obedience wearing perfume.