In the fractured twilight of Earth: 2250, where the skies still smolder from ancient wars and the world teeters between arcane wonder and cosmic dread, a solitary figure walks the ruins with a gentle tune on his lips and crumbs on his robe.

Samael Doran was born beneath the shattered dome of Elaron Haven, a once-hidden archive-city in the heart of what was once Europe, now a mystic ruin layered with whispers of lost knowledge. Raised among the Relic Keepers — a secretive order that prized ancient texts and cosmic fragments over weapons or gold — Samael displayed an uncommon gift: the ability to see connections where others saw chaos. Patterns in the sky, meaning in madness, voices in silence.

But the greatest shock came during his thirteenth solstice when, during a meditation over an irradiated pool of collapsed stardust, Samael wove his first illusion — not consciously, but instinctively, shaping phantoms of light and thought into dazzling, ephemeral realities. The elders watched in awe, unsure if the boy was blessing or omen.

As Samael matured, so did his powers. He became a Cleric not of gods, but of understanding, channeling his illusions not as tricks, but as tools — guiding others through grief, igniting awe in the lost, and helping fractured minds to mend by offering alternative truths, visual parables drawn from shimmering thought.

Yet, for all his gifts, Samael struggled. His own brilliance sometimes trapped him. A question could spiral into days of contemplation. An idea left unexplored would haunt him through sleepless nights. In battle, he’d pause — evaluating, considering, calculating outcomes that would never come to pass — while others acted. And in every moment of uncertainty, he’d reach into his robe’s hidden compartments for something to chew on. Jerky, dried fruit, maybe even crumbling chips from a lost world.

For Samael, snacks weren’t just sustenance — they were ritual, rhythm, grounding in a world of constantly shifting truths.

When the Reckoning began — the fabled final conflict between benevolent Mages and their corrupted kin — Samael felt no pull toward violence. But something far deeper stirred within him: a need to understand the source of the cosmic unraveling. A hunger not just for food, but for truth.

His journey now takes him beyond the shattered plains of the Old Federation, across the obsidian dunes of Kaz'uun's Spine, and deep into the floating sanctuaries of Zephryal, where illusions are real and truth is malleable. Armed with intellect, guided by insight, and wrapped in robes that carry the crumbs of countless rations, Samael Doran, Weaver of Realities, seeks to unmask the metaphysical rot infecting existence itself.

He fights not with blade or fire, but with revelation — illuminating hidden truths, manifesting dreams, and healing not with potions, but perspective.

In a universe cracking at the seams, his reality is the one he shapes — and yours might be next.