Henry William Koch was born on December 9th, 1840 in a small sodden homestead just south of Fort Atkinson, Nebraska territory. His father, Joseph James Koch, served in the United States Army, being stationed at the first fort west of the Missouri shortly after its completion. Having eight older siblings, Henry was often picked on for his thin, wiry hair and long ears, but grew into a handsome young man as he worked out in the fields with his brothers. However, he quickly tired of the settlers life, and decided to head east - Chicago was the destination. Spending a few years of his adulthood there, he sprung up in arms with the impending likelihood of war with the south. He had no motivation, really, beyond the thrill of adventure - but this thrill would later get him in trouble, and cost him dearly.
Henry's service in the military was wild and short-lived. Spending most of his time in Missouri, he was a Union fighter in the trans-Mississippi theater, and a fairly good marksman to boot. But, after an explosion left him bandaged-together and dying in a medical tent, Henry was almost certain it was the end for him. Stranger still, he kept hearing a muffled voice in the back of his head, telling him to let go. Then, even worse news - disease had broken out in camp, and he was surrounded by it.
They called it the Rot - and for good reason. Most who caught it usually knew after twenty-four hours, when they would develop a hoarse, scratchy cough, followed by splitting headaches. The following week could only be described as a gradual descent into hell, with increased heart-rate, thickened blood, hacking up strange blood-ridden chunks, and the stench of decay. Many who caught the disease died after only a week or two; many more killed themselves before they would let the pain overwhelm them. It didn't take long before Henry caught it himself, but his case was unique - despite suffering the traumatic symptoms, Henry's will seemed to persist past week one, and week two, yet the symptoms worsened further than they ever had previously. His body was eventually moved to a separate tent, simply because the smell was so overwhelming. But, regardless of how much pain he was in, he believed he was going to overcome the Rot, no matter how many nights he had to wake up in terror and pain, unsure of whether the screams he heard in his dreams were his own.
Henry William Koch was buried on December 3rd, 1863, six days prior to his twenty-third birthday. His body was first sent to Chicago, then transported across Iowa, toward Atkinson. The funeral was somber and cold, with his family and some neighbors surrounding his closed casket as he was lowered into the ground. He would lay there undisturbed for two whole years.
When Henry Koch awoke, he wasn't quite sure where he was. It was dark, quiet - the air was filled with a rotten musk, but seemed almost familiar to him. But perhaps most notable of all was the absence of pain. He thought to move his arms, shift his body, do something-- he heard a shifting above him. Then a scratching, and a thumping. Suddenly, he was blinded by the brilliance of the sun, and he lifted his hands to cover his eyes, before he noticed that, well, he couldn't. He tried, time and time again, before a figure stepped between his gaze and the fire ablaze in the heavens above.
This figure would identify itself as Aglan - a demon proclaiming itself as the late Henry's liberator. After a great speech surmising the tale of the murder of the Koch family and the restoration of life into Henry's corpse, Aglan poured into the casket the blood of Henry's parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews, rejuvenating all of Henry's faculties and slowly gluing the man back together. Aglan's deed was not out of the kindness of its heart, but rather the introduction of a business proposition - Henry Koch would continue to murder and binge in blood to ensure his continued survival, and Aglan would receive the souls of those who perished. Of course, Henry didn't recognize much of anything that Aglan had done for him as being any good at all, and swore upon his fallen family to destroy the wicked spirit in any way that he could. Thus, the tale of the Wrapped Desperado began.