I am an exo. I wasn't born, but created, for a purpose I do not know. I do not remember much from before I was brought back by my ghost, all I remember is fighting to protect innocents trying to escape. I remember standing between a pack of fallen vandals and a family of humans, screaming [i]"Run, hurry! Go! Don't look back!"[/i] I managed to fight off the fallen, but that is the last thing I remember, because I collapsed, mortally wounded in my fight. I didn't see what happened to that family. I can only hope they survived. I do not know the purpose that I was created for, but I have found my own purpose: as I stood on the tower, looking over the city for the first time, I vowed that I would do everything in my power to protect this last glimmer of humanity. That is the reason I joined New Monarchy. I cannot say that I completely trust the traveler, but we do not have much choice. My mistrust is like the wariness of a journeyman caught in fierce winds and torrential rain, huddled under a tattered tarp, watching it, knowing that it may, at any moment, tear or break away, exposing him to the elements. That is what our situation is like: huddled under a battered and broken machine. A machine that we hardly understand. As much as this bothers me, the traveler has given me the ability to protect others, for that I am grateful.