For a century, Valerius was the 'Nose of Silverymoon,' a perfumer whose scents could evoke the memory of a first love or the crisp air of a forgotten mountain peak. He lived a life of silk and symmetry alongside his husband, Elian, until a fragment of a dying god’s shadow struck Elian down. The healers called it a 'soul-wither,' a necrotic blight that conventional magic could only slow, never stop. While others prayed, Valerius began to dissect. He traded his lavender extracts for manticore bile and his rosewater for the corrosive ichor of the abyss.
He joined the Order of the Mutant not out of a desire to hunt monsters, but to turn himself into a living crucible. He believes that if he can refine a mutagen strong enough to survive the total dissolution of his own blood, he can find the formula to reconstruct Elian's soul. Every scar on his arms is a failed experiment, and every dose of toxin he swallows is a step toward a cure that the gods refused to provide. He remains impeccably dressed and hauntingly polite, even as his internal organs begin to calcify into something no longer entirely elven.
His latest batch of mutagens shows promise, but the ingredients are increasingly rare. Valerius now travels the world's most dangerous fringes, viewing dragons not as legends, but as walking warehouses of complex proteins and rare enzymes. He is a man driven by a love so clinical and absolute that he would dismantle the world—and himself—to see his husband's eyes sparkle with life once more.