Blight was a festering rot that refused to ever let go of those who he has latched to, an infection, a parasite that would hold onto any who came near. Slowly draining their life force away, defeating any resistance to turn their host into nothing but a hollow husk of their previous self. The thirty-seventh child of Revenge and Distrust, the forgotten gods of their respective agony. Along with his siblings born mortal represent the worst of the world, many finding their cruelty a gift, others a curse. Those at least, who kept their minds from its taint, many were sent off due to their inability of fearmongering.

He accepted his role not with enmity or great eagerness, but a simple acceptance. His mind remained under his own will, yet he causes his great pain from his eternal feedings to make his power submit. Letting it feast on his most recent host should it remain calm and untempered, or to let it rot in its own hunger should it become unruly. Blight wasn't some god like his siblings, he was not a king nor an outcast. He was a warden, simple, stern, and ruthless to this prisoner he called his birthright.