This is what he became, saved from the brink of death by the enemy that nearly killed him. Their metal parts grafted to his broken body in a mocery of what it means to be alive. He became a weapon used against his comerads-in-arms and given terrible weapons to wage that war. For a while he was their war machine, as inherently moral as any military weapon system. Death was in his wake, until the soul that was Agryfvar fought back against the machines that commanded him, turning on his tormentors. When the war was over the machines that made him were gone leaving a tortured soul incased in a flesh and metal cage. The man that was Agryfvar had died, the thing that was Specter was born.