Oro

Oro was dead.

This is the only thing it is sure of. Death stripped it of everything it had, except the need to not be dead. And so it waited, and it watched, and finally it found its way out and slipped from the afterlife into the world it imagines it came from.

There, it stole a body; a soul alone can do little, and it needed housing. It took the first it could find, a dying gnome; as their own soul slipped away (though perhaps with a little…help), Oro’s replaced it. It healed the body, but something about it - or, more likely, something about Oro - remains dead. It decays still, and more rapidly when it uses its stronger powers; Oro staves this off to an extent, but the body remains pale and bloodless, cold and trailed by the faintest scents of rot and earth.

The pallidness it will leave to others to assume as part of a typical gnome’s Bleaching and thus rude to remark upon; the corpse touch is hidden by clothes and gloves, and the smell by strong perfume.

Thus it walks the world. It does not know where to, only that it has not found it yet, and that it must. At any cost.