Once, he was a knight of renown, a sworn protector seeking glory in the forgotten corners of Doaden. Legends speak of Ser Oleander, the brave, who rode into the marshlands in pursuit of a holy trial. His name was to be etched alongside heroes of old. None saw him return.

The swamp claimed him, as it claims all who linger near the Waybeacon. Within its glow, Oleander saw not ruin, but revelation. The radiant flame became his new sovereign, and the voice within the light crowned him her champion. His body changed beneath that radiance, his armor fused to his skin, his limbs thinned and strengthened by alien grace, and his once-proud face deformed like the rest of Exuvia’s brood.

Now he wanders the mire as the Moth Knight, blade in hand and wings trailing dust like falling stars. Those who enter his domain are met with a whispering challenge, spoken through a voice that gurgles and hums. Show him respect, and he may guide you through the fog. Offend him, and he strikes with the same precision that once earned him fame.

Ser Oleander no longer seeks renown. The light has made him eternal, and he guards its glory without rest.