Boreas

Boreas is a man shrouded in a veil of mystery on a mission to make himself into a crusader against the darkness. Formerly a tinkerer of Radiant Garden and Traverse Town, Marqus L’Blanc took a false name and a false rank of Keyblade Master, shortly after the battle between Sora and Xehanort’s Heartless—because the Keyblade Master did not return for an entire year, it was believed widely that he had vanished for good.

The young man has an enormous messiah complex; he believes that he is to become the leader in a glorious war against the darkness, to banish it forever from all of the worlds and cleanse them of their impurities. he is often depicted in his banners and posters as a golden figure upon a white horse, battling with the common people against their foes of the Dark. As a survivor of the Hollow Bastion invasion, Boreas believes that the Darkness is a plight and a plague against the worlds, considering it a sort of illness that must be eradicated the minute it sprouts, and all traces of it must be completely removed from them in order for true peace to reign. his new devotion and faith to the Light is beyond radical, verging on mad—Boreas is quite willing to exploit and abuse any method of removing the darkness, even the slightest hint of it, without considering the emotions of others, or even how insane his methods are. he’s not above manipulation, terrorizing, injuring, or even killing, in order to make his point clear…as are many who follow his example.
The man has gone through a series of diminishing mental states--he believes this universe is some sort of trap, conceived by the Darkness, to keep those it had swallowed complacent. (Like a fucked-up Neo, he intends to 'release' everybody from their 'prison'.)

Boreas enjoys using people around him to further his messages and goals to the populace; he often holds rallies in populated worlds, preaching of how the darkness is a poison, and how any trace of it must be removed in order for the worlds to become pure with light once more. Terrified citizens who have experienced the Heartless and Nobodies more often than not rally to his cause and his teachings, their hatred as fueled by their fear as the very man they idolize. his appearances in these rallies can become almost frenzied, to the point where he rambles to a degree much more frightening than even that of those who command supreme Darkness; Boreas’s blind devotion to the light boarders on the lines of hellish zealousness. Despite this however, it does seem that people follow his teachings, and even execute them, leaving many of the worlds he openly visits in a state of a Salem Witch Hunt.

At first, Boreas appears something as a hero; he is polite, kind, courteous, and quite righteous. It does seem that he is a knight of justice, there to deliver the worlds from the evil of the lurking shadows…However, this is simply a façade. Boreas’s love for darkness could easily be compared to that of Ansem the Wise’s original love for Nobodies—those touched by darkness are no longer human, no longer have hearts, no longer have feelings…and should no longer exist. Arguing against him is unwise, particularly in public—Boreas's image and charisma can easily turn people to his side in a matter of moments, and he clearly uses their fear to attack those he hates. ((Akin to Hitler, in a sense.))
he is extremely manipulative, lying to everybody with zero acceptations, in order to further grow his influence and power. The people of the worlds are frightened and uneducated about the worlds around him, giving Boreas perfect perch in which to use them to his benefit. Boreas further fools the masses using his keen creative mind; he is no warrior and no spell-slinger, and makes up his lack of combative abilities with clever tricks, and smoke and mirrors. Other individuals are hardly anything more than tools to be used—the similarities between him and the very foes he fights against are not all that uncommon.

He is presently unaware of it, but he has been transported to this universe, not knowing that many of the events and the people he has known have not come to exist.

Area: The Origin Universe

Once, before it had become the Hollow Bastion, Radiant Garden was a world flourishing with life and prosperity. It was in this little world that many people resided, many for generations at a time…One such family carried the name “L’Blanc”. Perhaps one of the oldest to populate the little villa that had become this bustling bastion city, the L’Blanc family had become a powerfully influential group over the many years that they existed within the world. In the earliest years, so history says, it was the L’Blanc family who opened up and ran the very first of what would become a chain of stores christened with the simple name: “Item Shop.” The family secrets of chemical mixtures and techniques for crafting everything from potions to swords was passed down, taught to those who had the willpower and the ability, and from there, the stores flourished akin to the flowers around their beautiful world. For generations afterwards, the L’Blancs managed and worked in these stores until they had become so wealthy that they had no need to work themselves anymore, becoming overseers and managers in the flow of the times.

One such branch of the L’Blanc family tree belonged to Joxor and Yevelta L’Blanc, whose control of the family estate was held many years before the arrival of the mysterious Xehanort, or that of the three Keybearers. The birth of their sole heir, a son they titled Marqus, was the cause of a great deal of celebration—so much  so that the Great Hall of the castle was packed with well-wishers and festival-loving guests from as far away as the outer city walls. Though all those who attended the gala wished the boy and his family nothing but joy in their lives, not a soul who had come to the gathering had so much as an inkling of what tragedy would befall each and every one of them…

At a very young age, Marqus developed an interest in his family’s business—although not in the way many people had expected—instead of managing the shop from an administrative point of view, the youth instead desired to work with his father’s employees instead. The furnaces, anvils, and chemical mixers were romanticized in the youngest L’Blanc’s mind, and it was often that you could see him dreaming up his own adulthood as a hard-working tinkerer. he shrugged off his lessons as a businessman for the most part, and spent the majority of his days watching people work, fascinated on the art of the craft, the power of metalworking, and the wisdom it took to properly brew such wonderful creations. Books upon books were typically strewn about the study, pages marked with old family traditions in making items where he had left them, open for examination. Though he was still but a child, it was obvious he had a great deal of determination in his soul.

Although Joxor did not approve of his son’s hobby at first, he soon began to understand that, to properly manage one’s company, one may as well learn how things work within it; he allowed Marqus to further his studies as a craftsman…despite his business training still being part of his education. The youngest L’Blanc was delighted, and poured all of his efforts into understanding the trade. his eyes stared, unblinking, watching the masters in their work as he took furious notes. he paid no mind when he burned himself, and had no qualms about getting dirty. Traveling abroad, Marqus took it upon himself to observe those who collected the items used to create the elixirs and chains that his family’s company produced. Marqus was not in love with craftsmaking—it was his very life.

This adoration was only amplified with the sudden and strange arrival of the Moogles—unusual creatures who traveled the outskirts of the city, searching for materials and new things to create. Though they had always inhabited the world, it was more often than not that they went off on their own, exploring the area around them for new items to synthesize and create. Joxor L’Blanc offered them sanctuary in the estate whenever they wished, setting up a permanent relation with the tiny beings; since then, the Moogles were often seen in the L’Blanc area. The new generation of L’Blanc was utterly delighted in this latest development, and spent many of his spare hours absorbed in the Moogles as they happily worked in the forges and workshops his father had provided them. They were (and still are,) extraordinarily powerful magical beings, and observation alone was clearly not enough for Marqus as he soon requested them to teach him how it was they managed such finely crafted objects.
This took up the bulk of his youth—the Moogles were not so easily persuaded into simply telling their secrets to just anybody, but the youngest of the L’Blanc family was far from deterred from a simple ‘no’. Over the course of his teenage years, little by little, Marqus learned from repetition and practice from those who oversaw his teaching, including a few of the friendlier types of Moogles. Pages of new designs and formulas spanned across his bedroom and study walls. Notebooks filled to the brim with the smallest details of metalworking, chemical mixtures, and the properties of ores of every shape, size, color, and origin.

Marqus might have indeed gained the official title of Master Craftsman if there had not been a sudden distraction at the age of twenty-one: A young woman named Serenity. As one of the many people who aspired to become a researcher in the Radiant Garden’s Research Center located in the castle of Ansem the Wise, there was little chance she might have run into brilliant tinkerer in other circumstances—but fate had dictated that the Unversed would come…and they did. To many who lived in Radiant Garden before the time of Apprentice Xehanort, the memories of the strange creatures were fuzzy at best. Most hardly remember the beings, as they were much too young, simply hadn’t encountered them, or mistook them as Heartless. But Marqus knew he would never forget the little beasts, not so long as he lived: they had, whether it was intended or not, lead him to the woman she loved.

It began with the most unfamiliar noise anybody had ever heard in Radiant Garden—a young woman’s cry for help. Danger was an extremely unorthodox thing at the time, but the moment the Unversed had arrived, it suddenly became a commonplace…and over the years that followed, it gradually became worse. Marqus had heard that particular cry, and had he not taken another moment to decide that his ears weren’t playing tricks on him, nobody would have made it in time. he was alone, sitting in the Garden Square, contemplating on a park bench when the sound caught his attention, and upon recognizing the call, immediately went to seek out its source. On the grounds of the Bailey was the collapsed form of a young man, surrounded by a trio of the most unusual, terrifying, and powerful creatures he’d ever seen in his life…so far.

Marqus was not a fighter. he had no experience at all with the sort of thing, and the closest he had ever achieved to doing so were the fencing motions his father had taught him. he was running entirely on sheer instinct, which nearly cost the woman her life. His weapon consisted of a discarded metal pipe piece, which affected the Unversed about as much as tickling them might have; a fact that the youngest L’Blanc discovered with a heart clutched in the hands of terror. Had a certain pair of the castle guard not heard the cry as well…it would have meant the end of the youth’s tale.

During his recovery within the walls of the mighty Research Centre, Marqus and Serenity bonded closely, and soon became friends. Serenity explained that her reasonings for wandering the more dangerous parts of the town, were to further study the strange creatures that had been appearing, to become a researcher himself and rid Radiant Garden of them once and for all. Serenity greatly admired the researchers of the centre, and longed to become one of their numbers, daydreaming as he filed away papers and books filled with research within the confines of his humble home. Marqus understood this dream, comparing it to his own dream of becoming a Master Craftsman, and vowed to help him achieve his goal in any way he could.
The years passed by slowly but surely. Little by little, with each trip into the wilderness of their world, brief though they were, Serenity and Marqus grew closer. At first, their trips were monthly, hardly lasting more than a few hours, and typically consisting of finding nothing at all. The youngest L’Blanc practiced more of his swordsmanship, distancing himself with learning the trade of business, to better protect his new friend. he was far from great, despite all of his work at the blade, but was determined to keep his promise even at the cost of his own life. But as the months passed, Serenity and Marqus ventured further and further, for longer and longer, and despite all of their searching, there was neither hide nor hair to be found of the strange creatures that had appeared that fateful day they’d met. When they weren’t out in the open, they were nearly always together. Those who worked the craftshop hardly saw the rising creator anymore, and it was rare when the youngest L’Blanc wasn’t at his friend's home. Serenity was absent nearly all the time unless he was filing away for Ansem the Wise, and was never seen without Marqus in his company.

Finally, after so long of being together, Marqus gathered up the courage to propose--to which she accepted.

And indeed, it was a wonderful wedding…and though they were invited to attend, neither Ansem the Wise nor any of his titled Apprentices showed…and that was only the beginning of the strange and mysterious circumstances surrounding the Castle. Suddenly, nobody was allowed inside. Ansem the Wise would not take visitors, and the guards turned down anybody who made their way to visit. The areas that had once been public in the facility were shut without reason or warning. The Castle of Radiant Garden had become a fortress of secrets and solitude almost overnight…and nobody had an explanation. The Research Centre then closed, and was considered abandoned…
The latter half of the year passed, with no word from the inside, while within the city itself…strange disappearances began to occur. In the night, persons wandering would vanish without a trace, never to be seen again. Suddenly, panic gripped the hearts of the peaceful souls living within Radiant Garden’s world.
Despite all of this, Marqus did all he could to keep his wife happy. Their time together was that of pleasant days and comfortable nights, though Serenity worried for the man who had been her idol. But the days spent together would soon become more and more important, as a terrible chaos began to descend upon their tranquil land.

It began when the Shadows erupted from the earth, with the clapping of terrible thunder and a rumbling of the ground that made the stoutest of hearts tremble with terror. From the sinister machine that Xehanort’s madness had wrought, came forth the Emblem Heartless and their Pureblooded brethren to engulf the world in its black nightmare. And while the chosen few were struck down by the incarnation of the Keyblade Master, many more were devoured by his hordes. Few can recall that terrible day…fewer still escaped the horrors that were experienced…

The door shuddered with a terrible groan as several of the house staff braced it against the wretched monsters outside. Joxor gripped the hilt of his rapier tightly, his face hardened as his other hand held his wife’s shoulder. Yvelta glared nastily at the entryway to their home, hiding her fear behind a mask of solitude. Marqus and Serenity clamored down the staircase as quickly as their legs could carry them, the former holding his own flimsy sword in hopes he might not have to use it.
“Wh-what’s going on?!” The youngest of their family cried out. “Are we being invaded?!”
“Something of that matter my dear,” Joxor told him firmly, nodding. “They’ve broken through the main gate, and we’ve tried to save as many as we could…but they’re…” His face was grave, the old man’s eyes steely and serious, a trait Marqus had never seen before with his father. “They’re relentless. They’ve all but torn through the Castle Guards, and it’s likely they’ll be upon us soon.”
“Who’s they?” Serenity asked, gripping his wife’s arm tightly with his fear.
“Sh-Shadows, m'lord,” one of the workers stammered, his visage the epitome of pale. “They…they came from the d-direction of the C-C-Castle…They’re attacking folks, and m-multiplying in greater numbers…”
“Heartless,” he whispered, the breath leaving his lungs in a single, shocked word.
“But from the Castle?” Marqus repeated, completely lost now. “How could that be? Ansem the Wise shut down the Research Centre, surely there’s no way they could have been attracted here!”
Another inanimate, shuddering groan from the double doors, thick and strong as oak trees in normal circumstances, told that their time was running short. The nineteen people in the room huddled together against the wood, desperately pushing back against the unending tide of Darkness before them.
“Steady now, steady!” Joxor bellowed, as everybody grunted in their strains. “So long as we still stand, this place is a safe haven. I will not allow harm to come to this home so long as I still draw a breath.”
“Joxor,” Yvelta muttered, shaking her head. Her husband mimicked the movement with his own.
“We mustn’t falter…not now.”

But they would; the moment his lips ceased moving, a swarm of the creatures suddenly began forming through the floor itself, and chaos immediately ensued. Three workers were taken from the world before they had even realized it, and soon enough a battle was waged within the foyer of the L’Blanc estate. True though they were the finest craftsmen and women in the world, they were creators, and not warriors, and while their weapons were quite exquisite, their inexperience was no match for the savage ruthlessness of the incoming Heartless.
Marqus’s blade was slightly more seasoned than that of his fellow craftsman, but not by much of a large margin. his rapier cut through the legions of invaders, but not nearly quick enough; there were vast numbers of them, surrounding their location with too much speed…and the eldest L’Blanc knew it. Joxor swept his weapon through the body of one of the less fortunate Heartless, and whirled to face his son, his face bitter with sweat, tears, and heartache.

“Marqus, take Serenity and run.”
The youth grunted at the force of the house shaking as a pair of Defenders suddenly broke through the wall, their shields snapping viciously at the few gathered survivors. Marqus had never seen a Heartless so close up…or so terrifying…and his very being became an icy statue of fear at the sight of them. his blood and bones had frozen with absolute horror, and it was only the cries of his father that shook him from his petrifying fear.
“Marqus!” Joxor barked. “You must leave this place, now! Go to the outskirts, where you may be safe! Go!”
The L’Blanc heir shook his head furiously, making a motion to move towards his father, but a small flock of Wryverns swooped through the newly made hole in the wall, making it quite impossible to proceed further.
“Mother! Father! I won’t let them have you, not like this, please!”
“DO as I SAY,” the oldest of the family bellowed at him, plunging his weapon firmly into the wing of one of the passing Heartless. “Take Serenity with you! Go! I tell you this because we love you! We want you safe! Go now!”
“I…I love you too, father,” Marqus whispered, his voice almost broken with his emotion. “Please…be safe…”

Marqus stared painfully at the two who had given him life fighting for their own, and whirled to protect his wife, who was clutching the wall, backed against it fully, his eyes brimming with tears of horror. he grappled his wrist, yanking him away from his would-be sanctuary, his rapier in the other hand, plunging through the window with a yelp that surprised even him.
The Bailey and Market were completely overrun—there was hardly a soul to be seen, and those that were, quickly vanished into the eternal void. Serenity wailed in disgusted horror as a man and two children were taken by a swarm of little shadows, their hearts engulfed in inky blackness. Marqus had to pull, and pull hard, to keep his wife from sticking to the earth in her fear, quite unsure of what it was that made him keep his head from doing the same. A power pulsed through his very blood that somehow kept his wits about him, though his mind was in a state of full panic and his heart…the very thing that the Heartless sought, was beating harder and faster than ever before in his life.
“Marqus!”
The L’Blanc had to slam on his breaks and put his feet down firmly as the two stopped to a halt in front of a Large Body, the towering creature’s massive arms wide open for what might have been a bear hug of death. Serenity slammed into his back, which almost caused Marqus to stumble, but he kept his bearings as he gathered their current situation. The monster was blocking their path, and when he glanced behind them, the man could see that its many counterparts were running out of other people to snack upon…and would very soon be upon them.
Without thinking, he shoved Serenity slightly to the side and forward, propelling himself towards the great beast with his weapon raised for some sort of distraction. Panicked sweat poured from his brows, stinging his eyes, and as his wife ducked underneath the arms of the Heartless, Marqus thrust his body weight into the strike which—
did absolutely nothing. The attack bounced harmlessly off of the creature’s massive stomach, only causing it to become angry instead of injured. The former craftsman ducked under a wide, swinging frenzy of assaults, rolling less-than-gracefully under its legs, and took the hand of his wife again as they ran in vain from the incoming darkness around them.

It was in that moment that the Heartless moved in. Numbering in the hundreds of thousands, all swarming in on the location of the last two hearts they could consume, there was absolutely no hope of escape. Even had they managed to reach the outskirts of the city in time…still they would have been pursued, and eventually had met up with the same fate as they did now. There was nothing that could have kept Marqus from watching his beloved wife vanish into the void…or him.

Life, as a Heartless, is something that very few individuals have ever really recalled. Marqus L’Blanc is not among those people. It’s unknown precisely what shape the heir of the L’Blanc family took, or where it was that he had roamed. It does appear clear that, while L’Blanc was quite a character…his willpower was not strong enough to form a Nobody, like many of the other Radiant Garden victims. What is known, is that from the day Radiant Garden fell, to the day a particular boy with an even more particular weapon left Traverse Town…Marqus was very much absent.

It was the day after Sora’s departure that, very suddenly, Marqus L’Blanc found himself unconscious in an alley behind the Hotels, dripping wet from the gutters that flowed. The only recollection in his memories were that of before his life of Darkness…and the bitter, stinging heartbreak that he was alone in this strange, alien world. For a solid week, Marqus wandered hopelessly lost within the Districts of Traverse Town, until finally…he ran into a familiar face; a moogle, who found him at the brink of his sanity and whisked him back to the attic room of the Item Shop, where he spent his recovery.

However...this was neither the world—nor the universe—that Marqus had so loved. Through some manner of error, some cosmic blunder of fate, he had ended up here...in our universe.

Area: Present Universe

It took weeks for Marqus to return to full health, and even then, it was clear he was not the same young girl who had been the pride of the Item Shop. The craftsman did not take the news of his wife and parents’ disappearance at all well, and when told it was unlikely they’d ever return…Marqus shut down. When it was learned it had been nearly seven years since the fall of Radiant Garden, he sat in silence for days, staring at the floor in horrified disbelief. The polite, sophisticated youth from the time before the Heartless was very suddenly absent, now replaced with a hardened, introverted man whose face was as stony as the streets he walked upon. Though he still retained a fantastic talent for crafting and creating, it was obvious his love was no longer in it as it had once been. Even spending most of his time with the Moogles, those he was perhaps closest to in his youth, it was clear that Marqus carried a deep, ugly scar in his heart.
It wasn’t until months after his reappearance that Marqus discovered a customer that changed his life’s course.

She was a young woman. A young woman, with a weapon shaped of a key. The very sight rattled Marqus's mind—how was it that the legendary Keyblade, the weapon of purest light and stoutest heart, could fall into the hands of a child?
But where there had been one, there were many. Ten. Twelve. Thirty. All of them came to this Moogle Shop, hoping for new chains, clamoring for more items, and filling the store with the weapon Marqus had so believed to be long, long lost. They were there, tantalizing and unreal and so, so numerous. But how could this be? In his state of dazed confusion, he turned to the chief moogle.
“Chief. These...weapons. How is it that the Keyblade became so known so suddenly?”
The creature gave him a peculiar look. “There've always been bearers around, kupo-po. Where've you been?”

First there had been only a shadow of a memory of it. Now, there were suddenly hundreds. Marqus did not question how or why, but knew only that he desired to know more.
The Keyblade—the weapon of light that only came to those of purest heart—had been nothing but a legend to the bulk of the worlds, Radiant Garden included. There were only inaccurate accounts of the enigmatic weapon or its previous wielders…But what little he knew of it was more than enough to get Marqus fully engaged. With a heart aching for revenge, the L’Blanc returned to the whiteboards and forges of the First District shop, his mind racing with the designs of a weapon that could aid the warriors of light. For months, Marqus didn’t leave his quarters, taking meager breaks only to return back to his painstaking work. Drawing from the legends of old, from tales of mystery told by those who claimed to have witnessed events from the time before Hollow Bastion’s fall…Marqus began his work. Despite his talents however…he could not recreate the mighty weapon so that he could fight the Heartless as well. In his continuing failures, Marqus became more and more depressed, and more closed off from the world around his.

Not so long after that fateful evening, Hollow Bastion was reclaimed by the Keyblade Master, and the small number of survivors who had once lived in its beautiful landscape began to return to the place they had called home. Marqus L’Blanc, not wanting to entertain such painful memories of the past…declined at first. his mind still lingered on the failed prototypes for his own, hand-made Keyblade…for he was sure that he could recreate the mighty weapon for his own purposes. It was only until the Keybearer vanished after his battle against Ansem, without a trace, which the L’Blanc heir returned to the place his family had known for generations. Marqus believed Sora dead…and so decided to continue to forge his very own Keyblade…to combat the darkness on his own.
Having retired to what he believed was his childhood home, Marqus L’Blanc had long given up on trying to locate the missing Keyblade Master and creating the Keyblade itself, going into a slump of depression and solitude that was concerning for all those who had known him.

But the world itself...had not changed. In a twist of fate, somehow, his beloved Garden had returned unscathed! His family, his dear wife, all of them still lived! They welcomed him back, puzzled to where he'd gone, oblivious to the hell they had so recently suffered through. Not a single soul could recollect the horror that had befallen their home.
Such a thing struck Marqus as odd. He pondered the situation nightly, keeping wide awake next to the woman he'd thought long lost. Tinkering in the workshop could not ease his concern. The whole world and everybody in it had been destroyed before his very eyes, and yet, here it all was.

The final straw broke his sanity when he questioned Serenity of Ansem the Wise's present condition. A strange gaze came over her as she replied.
"Marqus...who are you talking about?"
Marqus chuckled. "Dear, don't play games; it isn't nice to tease. Ansem the Wise, the ruler of this world. The man in charge of the Research Center."
Serenity stared at him as though he'd been struck by lightning. "Sweetheart...we've not had a ruler for some while, and Professor Currigan is the head of the Research Center...Are you feeling well?"

This was all an illusion, he knew. Like some sick, twisted prison, the Darkness must have trapped him here, in this own personal hell of his. The people who loved him, all figments of illusions! It was ALL a LIE.
With his mental state shredded, Marqus began a slow decent into murderous madness...beginning with the supposed fake that was his wife. He moved on through the estate, killing every soul from the workers in the shops to his own mother and father. The blood fresh on his person, he tore from Radiant Garden, back to Traverse Town, where he might collect his wits again.

The monsters that had attacked his beloved Serenity, the Heartless, the Darkness…they had all been nothing but trouble, nothing but chaos! Someone had to stop them; someone had to destroy them, for good, forever! he would become the new Keyblade Master, and rid the worlds of their blight for all of eternity…he would become the legend that had been whispered for so very long…and he would fulfill the destiny that those before him could not.
This place was a prison. The Darkness had engulfed those it had taken, twisting the endless abyss around them into a make-shift world to keep them complacent. Here they would stay, trapped, all of them. He would not allow it any longer. Those who would follow him were certain to be those trapped as well. He would free the innocent from this unclean place. Those who opposed him...were clearly creatures intended to keep them here for all time.
He would slaughter them all as they had with his world, his home, and his life.


And so Marqus L’Blanc returned to Traverse Town, back to the workshop that had been his home for the long year he had waited to return home…and spoke with the moogles. he strode through the door, placed his hands on the counters firmly, and stared into the eyes of those who had taught him so well with a fire unlike which so few have kindled in their hearts…though it was the flame of a determined man…it was a flame forged by the sparks of revenge and hatred.
“Give me every single Dense Crystal you have,” Marqus told the Chief Moogle, with a voice as hard as mythril.

For half a year, Marqus L’Blanc toiled in a possession driven by the loss of all he had held dear. Days and nights were spent in sleepless torment, constantly working and laboring to create the tools that would see to the end of all Darkness for all time. After going through five prototypes, Marqus at last created a false Keyblade, which he entitled “Radical Faith”.
But the new hero that the craftsman-turned-warrior desired to bring to life lacked a face…and he couldn’t use his own. And so it was that the armor was forged in likeness of the false weapon he had created…to give a new face to his new life.

One morning, a figure appeared on the edge of Radiant Garden. The light glinted from a suit of brilliant, golden armor, as glittering and glamorous as the sun itself. A weapon hung on the figure’s side as he strolled into the city, eyes glued on him as he passed. It wasn’t clear, whether he noticed them or not—the figure’s face was masked by the helm he wore over his head—but his stride was unmistakably that of one who had a great deal of confidence.
Finally, as he entered the marketplace, one woman had the courage to stop him, standing slightly in his way to pause his progress. This person was an imposing figure to say the least, and utterly enigmatic in form…nobody knew whether or not this individual was friendly…or not.
“You’re…not from around here,” he stated, her voice timid. Her fear was apparent, and not unfounded.
The masked one turned his face to her, head tilting.
“I suppose I’m not,” the other replied. The speaker was undoubtedly male, though the exact age was hard to determine; the helm he wore made his voice grating and metallic. “But you need not fear me, if you walk in the light.”
“Who…who are you?”
There was a long pause, and as the woman who had asked the question was about to repeat herself, the enigmatic individual spoke.
“I am a Keyblade Master,” he said, holding up his weapon for all to see. The gathered people tittered collectively among themselves. “I hold the mightiest weapon of light, and I seek to destroy the darkness forever.”
“What should we call you by?” One of the shopkeepers inquired.
“My name is Boreas…and I will cleanse this world, and all worlds, from their taint.”