Liráel

Left abandoned on the steps of a rural church of Breton built to the worhship of Torm, Lirael was raised by Father Petrus. As they grew older, the nuns of the church became bitter as their young recruits became enamored with their appearance. Their fair hair and skin looked to be made of actual gold and silver and they appeared to almost have a radiant glow about them. Liráel remained unmoved by this affection and worked toward their goal of becoming the High Father of Torm, preaching the word and love of Torm to those who would listen. 
At the age of 15, they were abducted by an archon named Velen and brought to the celestial plane to train for what was believed was an oncoming war. They became a skilled warrior who was able to use their natural light to protect their kin as. They had a few close friends, but ultimately preferred quiet amd solitude where it could come bonding namely with Velen and their followers. As a sign of piety, they wear masks to protect others from their radiance agreeing to only remove them in battle. After 5 years of training (by means of the material plane at least) the war did, in fact, come. Lirael was on the front lines when the demons breached the Ceslestial plane. They fought valiantly, killing many fiends, but were stuck down with a devastating blow to the throat with a fiendish weapon. Their archon patron was barely able to heal the wound, and through pity, they sent them back to the material plane barely alive. 
Father Petrus (who was able to maintain sanctuary throughout the war) once again found Liráel on the steps of his church. A leap of fait made him trust this was no trick of the demons, and took Liráel in to heal his grievous wound. Despite his best skill and effort, its still drips with a dark ichor to this day. While Liráel havsn't lost their ability to speak, they do so only when necessary as the pain of using their voice is unbearable; choosing to use sign language or write their thoughts down. 
Since the end of the war, Lirael volunteers their sword for protection for any in need of the light of Torm, a silent imposing figure to any fiend.