Diego Ortiz

Diego does not remember his original name. He was human when the Spanish conquistadors came to his people. He watched as they slaughtered his people. He was afraid, terrified. He ran, praying to his gods, to any gods that would listen. They would be answered.

The thing that answered his prayers was not one of his gods. It was a thing of pure darkness, it promised him a way to fight off the invaders. All it wanted was his heart. Diego made that deal.

From there, Diego remembered blood, violence and carnage. He had saved his own village, but in doing so he had allowed himself to become a monster. His friends and neighbors he saved were terrified of him. He could not bear the look on their faces when they saw him.

Diego left his village, hid himself away. A quiet, secure place where he could sleep for a very long time.

When he had woke, years had passed, decades, centuries. Things were different, people were different. Diego took a new name and mingled among the people. He tried to fill the void in his chest with anything he could. Any and every vice he could get his hands on. Anything he could do to bury the memories, make the pain go away.