Champion freed from the binding of his chains. When the mist rolls in you'll know his name.

Feared by his Order and named the Fallen Sentinel, Eilander seemingly lost his edge after a fierce battle. Standing within the mist, at the precipice of death and insanity, his flesh twisting off his bones. He continued to protect Snowflower Garden in seclusion.

Many children were denied a life within the castle walls, given refuge in the Bastion's Edge. Among the forsaken, many were orphans of battle or illegitimate children of royal blood.
 
But him, the blood of a Sinner coursing through his veins, he was imprisoned, and left in some gutter. For the rats to have at him, so he doesn't rot any longer.
 
Then came a rope, calling him of greater waters. A Golden City in a field of flowers. Far from Maw, ready for a slaughter. Clear off your docks for all the hatred he harbors.
 
But eventually he realized he wasn't climbing a rope, he was dangling by a rope kicking. And cutting himself loose just isn’t an option.
 
The defense of the Bastion was the longest and most grueling battle he ever fought. They starved off the Blighted hordes, defending the kingdom. But none were left to thank them. Now they were trapped in their own undying shells, just like the Blighted themselves. He dreamt of dying on the battlefield for so long. Now he'll never die at all.
 
He sees a field of flowers coating the snow-covered ground all around him. The White Priestess was the one who told him what these flowers were called. All he ever known was battle. The priestess broadened his horizons greatly.
 
But the White Priestess was gone, leaving all except a child. He could try to run from the Order, but that's no life for a kid.
 
So he stands his ground, to spare no traitor. To leave them hailed and hallowed. To set himself apart from a slave.