NAME: GREGOR BARISH

ALIASES/NICKNAMES: 

AGE & APPEARANCE: Age is no longer easy to determine or apply to a man who has devoured eternity. How old is forever? His body, when around others, is always encased in a seven foot tall suit of living stone that looks like a cross between an old astronaut's outfit and the vanguard of an eternal war. Sigils are branded into the rock that defy the gaze of any but the most practiced enchanter, though some have been partially obscured with stupid-looking stickers. The visor to the suit swirls with unearthly mist, hiding any peek at the man inside, and the voice that comes from within is heavily distorted, though not exactly unpleasant

PERSONALITY & HISTORY: To understand who he is, you should understand that he is functionally two people at once, intertwined. The first was a relatively normal man of middling ambitions who liked to spend time with his family on the weekends and thought of himself as a bit of a talented amateur artist; the second was an eternal hydra, unknowable in its multitudes, ceaseless, endless. Where does one end and the other begin? Should his coworkers have been churned beneath the edges of his scales for forgetting his birthday? Should that vile dragon of eternal cold - colder than the black between stars, colder than the worlds beyond nothingness - have faced censure by their peers for not attending his neighborhood barbecue? 

He was a man who caught the attention of A WONDEROUS GAZE; he was a poison, eternal in his multitudes, who was pinned by that same eye. He is both now, and maybe he always was both. He was one - the one who became both - through centuries of endless hunger, of conscripted need, devouring the flesh that will not rot and will not end but will always rot and which will always be the end of that which it touches. Until one day there was nothing left to devour; nothing left to become. And from then, waiting until A GRACEFUL HAND reached down from above, tore the GAZE from its hideous perch, and rescued the man, the endless wyrm, from his shackles.

POSSESSIONS: An empowered sealing suit made of living, endlessly growing stone. Various tools related to the sculpting of statues and the painting of paintings. A ready supply of priceless metals. A door to uncertain and desolate vistas. 

ABILITIES/CONCEPTUAL STUFF: The hydra which, over the course of several centuries of relative time, he devoured in full, was the conceptual embodiment of eternity and of poison; to always be and to always grow, and to forever taint that upon which its venom fell. These concepts have become a part of him on both a physical and a metaphysical level; for him to walk uncovered upon a world is to doom it. The strange resonances of Neo-Babylon have reduced him considerably - much to his delight - but they cannot chance what he is at a fundamental level. Unless he mitigates himself, unless he seals away the truth of what he is, he will degrade the laws of where he stands, forever taint that point in time and space, reduce it to hideous turmoil for as long as time persists...at least on a long enough timeline.

LAST MEMORY: A GRACIOUS HAND peeling aside the curtains of reality to usher him to a distant world.

ADDITIONAL PLOT HOOKS: What other GAZES, what other HANDS might sense him? What does a sign of ill-omen mean for a high-fated world?