The tale of the Faceless goes as follows.
When kings did not yet exist. When humans were only one amongst the hunted.
They knew him by another name, they called him Akira.
A white shawl across his neck, yet the chest bare. A golden bracelet across one wrist, and a silver earring in an ear, with a plain spotlessly white toga to go plus the bald head— the descriptions of his looks you'll find in every scripture from those times.
People lived together then. In one large dwelling, fortified with walls of stone and bones of powerful beasts. The houses were simply skins of large beasts draped and tied together over sharpened stakes of wood. The strongest of them went out to hunt, and everytime only a few survived.
Akira, a young man then, ventured out on his own. He ventured far, beyond lands that no human had. To seek a better shelter, to find a safer place and beings that could think. And he did. He found the draconian tribes, from whom he stole fire, he found the dwarfs, with whom he exchanged the fire for their armour, but stole a silver earring and golden bracelet from. He ventured farther, and met the merfolk. Who taught him to breath underwater, and were satiated with just the tales of his travel and what living on land was like.
Soon came the deserts, and it lacked all life except for the shifting sand that seemed to follow him for months until he finally his feet met something sturdy. A forest with trees so tall and branches so wide, that the entire land was swamped in darkness. There he found another kind. These were dark silhouettes that couldn't be distinguished from shadows except they could walk on the land. Yet for some reason, couldn't leave the forest. From them he learnt of the beings who sometimes resided in the mountains just beyond the forest and sometimes within the clouds above. And into the mountains he went.
But that place he should have avoided. He found what he was looking for. A tribe of beings just as tall as the mountain range that surrounded their land. Their male were a pale white, while their females were a creamy white. Each were dressed in long, silky garbs, their hair coming down the waist despite part of it being tied up like a knot. A single horn jutted out from the foreheads of their kind, while their eyes were golden just like a dragon's scales. When within the mountain range he noticed that although from the outside they appeared to be a circular mountain range but on the inside, the entire thing was carved like what the draconians called "a palace". It was unfortunate for Akira that one of the beings there, a female, took fancy to him. And from her he learnt of the tribe. They were a primordial tribe. Had existed long before land did.
Yet, he stole. He stole from their Chief's treasury, a book. A single book. And with it brought magic to humans and a curse upon himself that turned him into a silhouette that walked the land at nights, and legend is, he still does. Looking, for his body.
(Wrote this story inspired from the pic above, which I found posted by “tegehel” on DeviantArt)