He has discarded his name. Taking one that belonged the name of his mother's Achura forebears so that he can be free of the shackles that his Intaki origins gave him. He is dead to his family now, for taking a clone is considered a heresy, especially amongst the artisans of Intaki.

He hated those times when his days were filled with nothing but the teachings of the cycle of life. The nature of how things to be. But that is gone now, for his is immortal. A capsuleer. Their cycles does not apply to him, their laws do not and neither do their ways. Theirs now, no longer his.

Only those close to him would note that despite all the changes, those old teachings and trappings of his bloodline is still him. The silvery tongue of his, the clothing that he chooses for himself. The poise. And the way in which his brand of destruction was brought to bear upon both friends and enemies. Like the serpent that swallows his own tail.

An Artisan until the end, even in dealings of death.