Kayen is the God of Peace. He shuns violence and uses his influence to introduce kindness and compassion throughout Entia. The Patron of Healers, he strives to eliminate the suffering that has been introduced into creation.
Kayen was trained under Scarlet Wraithchild, learning slowly but working with great dedication until he was a healer of somewhat moderate ability. Living in Makilor, he tended to the various wounds and ailments that befell the city's citizens and its visitors. When the news of an attack on Zyankia spread to the city Kayen made the decision to pack up his few worldly possessions and travel to the city and aid in its defense against the invading force. He worked tirelessly, tending to those wounded in the defense of the city. After the breach of the castle gates and the death of Count Picar and his wife, it was clear the city of Zyankia had fallen. Kayen went underground with the resistance fighters in hopes of restoring the throne. Many hard bloody months passed before the situation changed, and unfortunately the change was not for the better.
Kayen was captured by patrolling Tarr and was dragged before the War Captain. Cirius looked down upon him, his toothy maw opened to let loose some terrible, unholy sounds. His hand raised, and Kayen’s world went dark. In fact that was the last he ever saw of daylight. He awoke some time later, the dull aching of his head reassuring him that he was still alive. He tried to move, only to find his limbs shackled by heavy chains. This was to become his new world. For days nothing changed – there was no day or night, no passage of time, no sound but for the steady drip of putrid water from the stalactites above.
This continued until a strange glow entered the room, it grew nearer to him until he could nearly make out a twisted face before him – the hot brand plunged into his side. His body shook and twisted, writhing against the chains. A scream more terrible than any he had ever imagined echoed off the cavern walls, he heard it only to realize it was his own. The beast continued, laughing as he drew the flaming iron across every bit of Kayen’s bare flesh. The burns eventually healed; slowly oozing out his life into a hard cake of tough, bloody scab. Once the burns had healed, a black wind entered the cave. A swarm of foul imps stripped Kayen bare, their gnashing teeth ripping away, their dull claw raking more raw flesh to the surface. Each cycle continued his indescribable pain until he was nearly dead; only to be revived by dark, unholy magics. . He nearly slipped away to die from starvation, until the Tarr in cruelest kindness, forced a vile black paste down his throat. In this way he lived, weeks passing in ways far too terrible to imagine.
