There once lived a small tribe of pyromancer's within the Nether, due to their ability of being one with fire, they were at peace with all that existed within the hellish plains. But of course, they weren't able to manipulate the flame at birth, instead they were taught the use of flame from the Blaze beings.

One child born by the name of Baldur mysteriously wasn't present with the flame upon birth. This made him an outsider to the tribe, a stranger, everyone but his family shunned him. But the family was still looked down upon.

Life went on as an outcast for Baldur until his young adult years , bullying and ignorance followed him everywhere. One such bully cast a fireball at Baldur which badly burned his face, leaving it disfigured and so he began wearing a hood to hide the shame and abuse.

Due to having no ability to cast flame, Baldur was the gatherer for the tribe, with having no magical protection he wore a custom iron armor with chain links beneath. One day Baldur returned from foraging, to his dismay, he found his tribe slaughtered by the Piglins, their only enemy.

Despite how Baldur was treated by his tribe, a rage fueled his body and in an instant, his left arm combusted into a hellfire. From that day on, Baldur became a master of pyromancy, and sought out to deliver justice to any who are wronged or too weak to protect themselves. All enemies were met with flames that burned to the bone...