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Bukane Serevin, an old and withered campaigner, has lived a long and eventful life in the service of the Dragon-Blooded of Lookshy. An accomplish Commander in the Seventh Legion, Second Field Force, Serevin had never known anything except military life. A hero many times over, he was trusted by the staff and served the legion both loyally and well for over 30 years of his life. He's saved entire talons of his men, rescued Dragon-Blooded junior officers caught behind enemy lines, and countless other feats worthy of recognition. It was recognition that he recieved, as well, managing to make it all the way to the rank of Shozei and even earning a chance for a rare and coveted honor.
When he was only 27, Serevin was offered the chance to undergo the augmentation and training necessary to command a Wing of Gunzosha warriors. He accepted, and the Sorcerer-Engineers cut holes in his flesh to implant the various amulets. He was given various alchemical mixtures, kept on a controlled diet, and for exactly ten years he served in the elite of the elite. He was thirty-seven years old when he was retired from the Gunzosha wing and from active duty, but he looked closer to 60. He'd lost most of his hair, his muscles had withered with age, and he was covered in scars both from battle and from the augmentation that allowed the Gunzosha armor to function. No longer fit to be a soldier, he had no where else to go, and so Senior Command "retired" him to the reserves and put him on guard duty.
He survived longer than many former Gunzosha do. 9 years past his service, at forty-six, he was doing patrols in the Mourning Field. He was obstinately in command of the younger men in his fang, but he understood better just how ceremonial his position really was. The anger had begun to grow in him, over the years. He missed the taste of real food, the strength of his youth, and even the respect he'd once had. It had all been taken from him, and what was his final reward for his service? Broken, forgotten, and ignored.
One winter night, while his men were off patrolling, he felt a harsh pain in his chest and fell from his horse clutching his chest. The Mask of Winters offered him a better deal than another meaningless death, and he took it.
Now he serves a new master.
Now he is the Bastion of the Fallen Empires.
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