Leor was born under a different name, one that has since been lost to the world, one that no one uses anymore and is therefore not worth mentioning. He was born to spiritsmiths and brought up to be one in turn. He learned their ways, their rituals, their values, and their secrets. Leor, however, dared to question. He dared to innovate.

His first drafts of the Automourner were dismissed out of hand. They were called impractical, unfeasible, even blasphemous. His bold ideas did not take well to the traditionalism of the Spiritsmiths, and he was quickly forced into the mundanity of forging armor for mourners doomed to die again and again. These early drafts were quickly lost to time. He grew up, got married, and had a daughter.

It was soon after his daughter was born that he found a pair of Spiritsmiths deep in the Twilight Pines, a married couple doing experiments with weaponizing Aberrants against Revenants. Their cabin could only be found by those who understood the true nature of life and death. They talked late into the night and early into the morning, exchanging ideas and methods. They were like him, only they chose exile rather than obedience. It relit a spark in Leor, one that drove him to restart development on the Automourner in secret. He revisited them often until one day they seemed to disappear. A note explained that they had left the island to die in peace after concluding their research was leading utterly nowhere. They put the fate of Phorasmos in his hands, so he would not disappoint.

The pressure of the people he respected got to him, though. His experiments became more desperate, and he spent even less time with his family or the other smiths. His wife confronted him on this one day when he missed some sort of special day. She entered his workstation in their basement, and an argument quickly ensued. The Automourner prototype he was working on was based on an aberrant spirit, and had too much autonomy. It sensed hostility from his wife, and acted accordingly. He destroyed the thing, but not quick enough, as his wife's body laid on the floor. He stood there, motionless, the shock only broken by his daughter's footsteps coming down the stairs. Leor acted quick, putting on a cloak, grabbing all his research notes, and escaping from a secret back entrance.

The Smith took the opportunity of merchants in town to escape from the island. He would no doubt be hung if he was found out, or at least Exiled. That wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. From the ship, looking back at the island, he swore to return once he had learned more. He would free the island like he had sworn to do, alone. And once he had, he would find a way to bring his wife back, to show her it had all been worth it.

13 years later, Leor has returned, albeit with a new face and name. The best flesh sculpters were responsible for his appearance change, and the best wizards had taught him the methods needed to perfect his great work. He will fulfill his oath, no matter how dirty his hands need to get.