It's a good question, all things considered. He'd asked it himself the first few hundred times he looked in the mirror after his awakening in the Celestial Nadir. As one of scores of abandoned, discarded, or otherwise shelved pet projects of Imaskari artificers, he first learned that answers would not be found among the other husks that wandered the demiplane with him.

A silver tongue came naturally, and earned him access to other planes. Muscle memory served him in the Outlands, and he found some of his answers through force. Though he'd filled in some of the pages of who he was, they were still pockmarked with cigarette burns or weathered by time. What remained was who he is. Outlaw to most, but oathbreaker is whispered among those with keener arcane senses, and the reason why he finds it easier to travel undetected in the Domains of Dread.

Or so he'd hoped, when he stopped to rest outside of Krezk. However, some people, even in the most repellent of places, can't resist an easy payday. Though Shadowheart lifts his hat enough to see his eyes have opened, a previously limp hand shoots up from the snow and takes a firm grip of her wrist.

"Now, don't go asking questions you ain't prepared to get an answer for, sweetheart."