Fifty-five years ago Rylan was born to a young raider when his mother died in labor and his father only provided the barest necessities to him. He quickly set out to prove his worth to his clan, the 'Motor Knights' a clan of raiders notable for their use of automobile parts in making their thick metal armors. He served them at a young age by spying on other clans and running packages, mostly drugs across the clan's territory. He proved himself more than adequate at his tasks.

But of course you're not a real member of any raider clan worth their salt until you've made your first kill. Rylan knew his was coming soon when they brought him along for a raid on the citizens of the remains of Detroit. He was only ten at the time of the raid. Overall the raid went amazingly well for the clan, they established a permanent presence at the Chryslus building and retrieved hundreds of pounds of food, drugs and ammo. But most notably for Rylan was a young man in a small settlement on the outskirts of the city proper. He looked to be in his early twenties and had apparently killed three of his comrades before being subdued. Rylan was brought into the room and given a gun, the man didn't speak a word, he was expecting him to beg, ask for his life to be spared but he just sat there and stared at him. Eager to prove himself, Rylan pulled the trigger and watched his corpse slump down to the ground. He had expected it to affect him, but it didn't.

Over the next few years Rylan continued to prove himself, taking a more active combat role in the clan's raids. He quickly gained a reputation for his ruthlessness and earned the nickname of "The Young Butcher" at the age of fifteen. So named for his gleeful enthusiasm for disarming his foes before closing the distance and dismembering them alive. Eventually he outgrew his nickname though and simply became "The Butcher" and with it he outgrew his complacency to merely be that butcher. Unfortunately for the loose leadership of the clan the method for ascending the ranks was quite clear cut and bloody. A duel to the death. He made his first challenge when he was twenty, challenging a lieutenant for his position. The rules were simple the challenged chose the weapons, no firearms allowed and the winner was whoever was still alive. He chose a polearm and the duel lasted just over a minute, ending with a slash across the young lieutenant's abdomen that sent his guts spilling out.

Over the next five years Rylan engaged in several duels, climbing the ranks of the clan steadily to the point that at one time the next above him disappeared only a few days after he became the next in line for Rylan's string of duels. Eventually though he rose through the ranks until there was only one opponent left to face, the leader of the knights was a big man with more experience than any other in the clan. Rylan spent two years as his right hand man, undertaking the most dangerous tasks he had ever heard of. Most in the clan saw it as their leader trying to kill off his only real competition, and the thought wasn't lost on Rylan. Though he chose to believe otherwise that he was being seasoned so he would be a good leader for the clan when the time came. And eventually the time did come when he was twenty-seven a few days of recovery after singlehandedly wiping out a small super mutant camp in Flint.

The duel was unorthodox to say the least while most duelss were fought with bladed weapons anything that wasn't a gun was available and for their duel the chosen weapon was simply two long carved wooden sticks. The duel lasted almost an hour until both were too exhausted to stand, it wasn't a clean kill, it was messy, a bad way to die. It ended when Rylan managed to get on top of his exhausted counterpart and leveraged hist weight upon the stick against his foe's windpipe.

Under the many years of his rule the clan's territory almost tripled, becoming the dominant raider clan in the Detroit area. He often led the charge in attacks on population centers and his reputation as "The Butcher of Detroit" often preceded him leading to many settlement instead having significant offerings ready. But he knew as well as anyone that passively accepting offerings from the weak would lead the clan into weakness. As such he made sure to occasionally butcher entire settlements for no reason other than to keep his and his warriors skills sharp. Of course during his multiple decades spanning reign he was challenged multiple times, though the closest anyone ever got to defeating him only left him with a significant scar running straight down his left thigh from a dying foes' final surprise attack with his axe.

Years of murder wear on a man however and as his fiftieth birthday approached Rylan decided to call it quits. It took almost as long for him to understand he was the bad guy, that his actions were wrong. Maybe it was the words of the last family he forced to watch as he dismembered them one by one, or perhaps it was just the wisdom of time, or maybe it was just that he didn't want to die with the best thing he'd done being wiping out some poor sods just trying to get by in the wasteland. He considered leading the clan into peace, but realized quickly that it wouldn't fly, he'd be assassinated by those stuck in the old ways without a doubt. If he was going to have peace he'd have to find it on his own. So on the night of his fiftieth birthday after a raucous celebration which was highlighted by several deaths. Including three he personally perpetrated on the three clan leaders he considered most unstable. He disappeared into the night.

Over the next five years Rylan took to trying to be a good guy. He helped many settlements with their problems in his travels. And though many were dubious of his just kill bad guys until the problem goes away methodology, the results couldn't be denied. Eventually his reputation spread, and he earned a new nickname. "The Wandering Paladin" so named for his heavy armor and seemingly good natured intent among all those he crossed.