Alain the Shameful

Overview
Though some consider the Pilgrimage to be as much of a race as the sky is green, this sad creature inherently believes he may be in last place. The Frankenstein who calls himself Alain the Shameful made a bid to go against his very nature and failed, costing the lives of serveral other Created. He now wears his dishonor upon his shoulders, quietly urging those around him to rise above his misdeeds, hoping to come to terms with his past failures. But will redemption really be waiting for him?

Birth
Alain never knew the name of his creator, though his face will be forever trapped within the depths of this creature's tortured mind. In fact, had it not been for the discovery of his creator's journal, none of his origin would have been known to him. Without the cold words contained within, Alain's only frame of reference in his birth might have been the pain of his animation. Some might argue that such a creature are what nightmares are made of.

According to the words, Alain was created in the deep wilderness of the northeastern United States. The man who gave the creature life was an Osiran who had until recently traveled far and wide with a Throng, a closely knit group of desperate Promethean. Having been drawn into the forest with the promise of much needed solitude, they did not expect to find the ever aggressive Pandoran waiting for them. After a series of brutal guerrilla attacks in the night, the Osian stood alone, victorious in only his ability to push his fellow journeymen into the maw of the enemy to save himself.

Now injured and hunted by the creatures, the Osiran knew he needed something to slow their advance. And here he stumbled upon a cozy little graveyard, found where an old prison complex once stood. Those at rest here met their capitol punishment, their crimes so terrible that no family dare lay claim to their remains. The parts were perfect. Heavy, at the peak of physical fitness thanks to the manual labor the prisoners were subjected to before their demise. A Frankenstein. It would serve his needs and nothing more.

Early Life
Still reeling from the shock of renamiation, the Osiran wasted no time in arming the stoic Promethean, teaching him to survive off the land and in the use of makeshift weaponry. He was dispatched upon lone Pandoren, his familiarity with combat proving to be the only thing the Osiran ever desired of the beast. The creator knew full well what might happen if his creation ever questioned his existance, as he himself spent his entire life doing. These sort of thoughts would not settle well with the Frankenstein, and thus would make him a less effective weapon.

Alain questioned hopelessly, his inquiries about what and who he was immediately put down in favor of seeking firewood, or strengthening the stitchings that held his corpse together. He was allowed no knowledge that would not aid him in battle against his master's enemies, and thus found little need to question his motives. This creature was sad, and he didn't even know it.

Then, one night, the Osiran briefly left the camp to find some more firewood. The creature sat quietly by the smouldering flame, sore from the day of training behind him. He observed as the sun rose to the top of the sky, then fell behind the treeline. Three times this happened before the creature realized that time was passing. A lot of it. Though maybe a little later than he should of, the creature searched the camp for his knife, intent on finding his creator. And that was when he found the journal.

He didn't understand the words, not at first. But yet another full day and night, and his knowledge of this basic skill slowly returned to him. So cold were the writings of his creator toward the creature. And as the full, terrible realization of his existence dawned upon him, understandable curiosity was slowly replaced with seething rage. Surely with the deperation shown by his creator to survive, there was more to life than this camp. Armed now with only the journal, his knife, and the pitiless eyes that his creator chose for the creature, he left the camp, damning the Osiran to whatever fate he stumbled upon in the deep woods.

Travels
With instinct alone driving him, the creature traveled the countryside, searching for answers. His tracking skills lead the Promethean to a fellow Created, and in this meeting, he learned the ways of the Ramble, which facinated him greatly. The tall tale this creature offered gave him hope, and he wanted to hear more. Continuing to move from place to place, he met as many of his kind that he could, learning of the terrible and bizzare stories they had to share. During these early travels, the creature selected his own name. Alain, he would call himself, chosen by the writings upon a gravestone.

Alain practiced only his mind and voice as he walked, distancing himself as much as he could from the sad fate that his creator had in store for the creature. Though his physique intimidated all but a few that he met, Alain would soon prove himself the gentle giant, requesting nothing more than a warm meal and a ramble. His troubles were few in these days, and the path of his own Magum Opus seemed so clear to him.

One night, he stumbled upon a Throng, weakened from the harrasment at the hands of a local Centimani. They begged the hulking Promethean to join them, and help to defend the group until they manage to get organized. The sincerity of their request moved Alain like he never would have imagined possible, and he agreed. Though the Frankenstein rested, his sleep was uneasy. The terrible comparison between this current situation and the very fabric of his existance waking the monster from his sleep. In an act that would stain his very morality for years to come, Alain quietly left the camp in the middle of the night.

His march back to solitude was interrupted with terrible screams, and the creature immediately recognized his mistake. Sprinting back, there was nothing left but charred husks and the damned creatures that initiated the massacre. Though the cries and pleads of this innocent throng of fellow Created would play over and over in his mind for years to come, the silence in which Alain butchered the Pandoren and the Centimani that birthed them was deafening.

And on that night, Alain the Shameful was born.

The Fallout
The once gentle Promethean was never the same after that night. Though he stopped to trade the occational ramble from those he happened upon, he grew quiet and distant from the people he once found to be so facinating. Never did he spend more than a single night with his kind, often leaving in the middle of the night, unable to accept the inevitable invitation to travel together. Never again would Alain risk putting the lives of others in his own hands. He did not deserve this honor.

As his torment grew into untreated rage, Alain began to wonder of the validity of his own Pilgrimage. So easily did his actions snuff out the lives of several other created, their own journey coming to an unjustified end. Was he really even worthy to find redemption? What good would a sad creature such as himself be as a human? What a waste he would be. These somber thoughts inhabited him as easily as the Azoth burned within him, which only proved to worry him even more.

And then, one lonely night, the traveler found a sign in the form of a vivid dream. These 'visions' as he called him were not a new phenomenon to Alain, none were so perfectly clear in their goal. If redemption really were such a thing, he would find it in the city humankind called Atlanta. There, Promethean spoke in hushed whispers of The Gauntlet, the best chance anyone had to obtain their Magum Opus. And though Alain remained doubtful that such a cherished end awaited him, he had hope of at least finding forgiveness. If he aided even one Created down the path, then maybe his rest would grow easy once again.

Alain wanted to test his faith, and tested it would be.

Giant (••••)
Alain was built to be a tank, and tank he was. Almost comically large, the brute stands at nearly seven feet tall, easily four-hundred pounds of rippling muscle. However, even fully clothed, the trained eye might notice just how odd his physique was. Though muscular, the tank was not evenly built, leading the curious to wonder just how the giant packed on so much muscle...

Theme Song(s)
thumb|300px|left