Previously a reclusive Toreador he seemed to live only for his violin which he played to himself in a sound proof room over and over again. He eventually slipped into torpor during the War of Chicago but when he awoke a few years later he found that the musical spark had been reborn inside of him. Now he is leaving his studio and exploring Chicago again, equal parts elder and neonate as he sees the world with fresh eyes.

Tamoszius grew up poor and frequently malnourished and it shows, standing barely five feet tall and tragically scrawny, with thinning silver-gray hair and startlingly intense blue-green eyes. His hands are obviously those of a musician, long-fingered and sensitive, with a violinist’s calluses forever preserved by the Embrace. His childe has managed to coax him out of the carbon-dated wardrobe he wore for decades and he has instead traded up to a sort of thrift-store-originating shabby chic, instead of just shabby.