Villit lead a hard life. An albino living in the temperate farmlands near the eastern edge of Creation, he was not worth much to the community. Young and stupid, he fled towards the Blessed Isle, trying to find a better life. Along the way he was beaten, robbed, and in his darkest nine seasons, exploited as a prostitute. Still, through it all, he persevered with a smile and with nary a complaint. Inside, though, he was furious with Creation. The hypocrisy and the cruelty. He was a good wolf, damnit! Every day when he awoke, the fire of indignant fury stoked higher in his gut.

Once, a client got a little too friendly with a blade and that action was the straw that broke the camel's back. Villit left the teahouse in the dead of night, soaked with blood and forever changed. He met with a pair of travelers on the road, and slew both of them. For the first time since he had left his village, Villit laughed, and somewhere in Hell, his howls of joy were heard.

Villit was made an offer.

Pictured here is Villit, now Saffron Blitzkrieg Mahatma Genocide, returning to the teahouse to enact his revenge, screaming with the joy of releasing all of his fury.

Drawn by  dragonbeak with my utmost appreciation. I love this pic!