High Rombaldian Monk of The Order Of Psuedoanimistic Omnicidal Pacifists
One innocuous day in the Skyrack, a child was born in the shadow of Rombald. But all was not to be good, for Rombald was looking the other way. The shadow was all the child got. He learned the ways and the virtues of life from the land herself. From her hills and her valleys, her dawn and her eve, her pine and her heather. But nature is nothing, if not inhumane, and the child grew up neither good nor evil, upon the earth and a part of it, but in many ways apart from it.
He lead his life neither right nor wrong - merely alien. He would help and hinder. Save and kill. Try and fail. Live and die. Laugh and cry. Mostly cry. He set across the Earth, a lone drifter searching for roots, a reason, somewhere to call home. He lived through rape and war, affluence and luxury, East and West, North and South, high and low, dry and wet, through the howling wind, and the silent darkness.
Eventually, he returned to where he began. This time, Rombald turned to face him, and took him by the hand. Leading up to a hill of bristling heather and said unto him "here". Rombald left the man who once was a child alone, as he slowly realised in this one place - this one sacred place - here, and only here, is where he can feel absolutely no anger whatsoever.