Stone-faced, fair-skinned, weathered. This man has the visage of a young man and the eyes of an ancient.

***

Claims to be hundreds of years old, and has demonstrated both the ability to Travel (with others) to "dangerous locations" and the ability to create complex remote control apparatuses by hand.

Rescued Rebecca and Fiernas after Persephone crashed onto Venus, then Traveled away with Rebecca, Fiernas, and Kayla after they discovered the rest of their crew and the shuttle itself had been salvaged by SAGE while they were talking nearby.

Last seen aboard an Amgine Factory Ship above Braeburn's Compound on Titan, where he was fatally injured during the battle against Apex by an Amgine Enforcer and faded to mist.

Formerly a private vision for Fiernas

quote:

The Scent of Deeds #1 You see a much younger Barachiel dressed in ancient clothing, equipped with a walking stick and sandals upon his feet. He's eating an apple and humming as he walks down an unremarkable forest path. Flecks of sunlight trickle down through the canopy, and the weather seems mild. He comes to a simple wooden bridge spanning a tranquil brook, and hears a scream from somewhere below. He glances downward, and spots two men in dirty tunics by the bank of the brook. One is carrying a long knife, and the other has both arms wrapped around a terrified-looking young woman. She has a red welt on one cheek, her clothing is torn, and a basket of laundry is strewn all around her. "Help! Help me!" she sobbs, catching Barachiel's eye. The two men follow her gaze, and the one with the knife brandishes it at him. "Just keep movin', pal. This got nothin' ta do wit' ya." Barachiel tenses his fingers against the walking stick, but you can smell his fear. This version of Barachiel is young and inexperienced. He hasn't yet Traveled. He's not a fighter, nor a doctor. He doesn't want to die. Barachiel crosses the bridge without a backward glance, trying to ignore the sound of the woman's cries. He takes another bite of the apple, then throws it aside -- it suddenly tastes rather sour. The scene changes, and you see an older Barachiel dressed battered armor and equipped with a shortword materialize in a sizzle of energy on the banks of a brook much like the one you saw before. The sunlight trickles down upon the stony shore, and glints as it catches blood. The body of a young woman lays facedown just a few paces away, next to a basket of wet, soiled laundry. Nearby are the same two men, one armed with a long knife, chatting without a care in the world. Both look somewhat winded and flush in the cheeks, but are in good spirits. Barachiel stares at the body of the woman, transfixed, then draws his sword. The men don't notice his presence until it's too late. He charges...and then he wakes up. It's nighttime, and he is in a comfortable bed in a dark room. He curses the night, slamming his fists down upon his mattress and quivering with rage. This second scene, you realize, is not the scent of deeds, but of a deed left undone. It is the stench of guilt, and even a thousand years of altruism haven't washed it away.