As an old man, Constantine still stands tall and manages to maintain an impressive figure
that could, and does put many younger men to shame. Measuring 6 feet tall and clothed
in the deep purple robes of his order made of the dyed furs of snow leopards, the thin
gold trim around the edge being the only telltale sign of his standing within the order.
A mane of white hair cascades down his back reaching its small. Of this, he is most
proud, not graying like that of other most other men his age.
Now he hides his face beneath a large hood. A marked man. Horrendously scarred.
A disciple of Mathom in his early days after being pressured to join the
priesthood, as was common practice among the noble families for the later born.
Constantine grew up as the fourth son of a minor noble, the firstborn having signed up
to serve with the Empiric Legion, the second to manage the fathers' estate and the third
going into medicine.
As a youth he was notoriously lazy, escaping duties whenever he could. Being a
nuiscence and prankster. There weren't many he didn't dare upset. Except Cook, you
never upset the Cook. This, to his father was disgraceful, whilst at the same time it made
it easy to decide which Order he would be sent to.
Therefore, he was sent on his way to fathom his future amongst Mathom’s favoured.
It was on this journey that things became ever clearer to him. He’d left his father’s hold
just before winter broke, barely 2 days away he found a raven and tended it for the
duration of the winter it is now his faithful companion, having stayed with him since.
Crossing through fields, almost at his journeys end he came across one of the peasantry.
Stopping, he asked the man if he was in need of help, which the farmer gladly accepted,
though he thought this extremely bizarre, a man clothed in fine garb, albeit somewhat
worn from travel, standing in his field offering to help. Constantine stayed with the
farmer for almost a year, helping the man, before deciding that he’d done enough and
moving on to the temple.
Upon his arrival, he noticed one of its older priests standing under the main arch, smiling
at him. “Welcome, Constantine, I have been expecting you for some time now, I see that
you have been busy upholding that which we hold sacred...”
Time passed and Mathom’s influence grew, the young, impressionable rebel, became a
devout priest, devoted wholly to his Gods cause: delay.
Approaching his 58th birthday, and in declining health, the old man abdicated his post, asking those left to vote, as they always did when
birthday drew near, the High Priest’s health worsened. Whilst he was still
such events occurred. 10 days are given for the following to elect their new leader, during
this time they