When The Faceless were first created, Mortal Alchemists quickly took notice and began to push for these techniques to be further used. And indeed, these Created began to appear in shocking numbers, triggering many a Firestorm in the process. As the War ended, many of them either labelled themselves as Extempore or simply died.
The Faceless were created by the accident; through the application of Lightning to a pile of Corpses killed by Chlorine gas, several human like shapes quickly stumbled away.
The Humour of the Faceless is Chlorine, and it guarantees that the unfortunate being will forever be internally suffering, whilst their outer shell shows none of it. It imbued them with an inner fury that drives them almost insane; willing to go to great lengths of what seems like bravery and self sacrifice, as to try and end their suffering through death. It drives them to focus on their pilgrimage with almost single-minded dedication, and gives them a gruff and broody aspect.
Their large size and formidable durability makes others think twice about attacking them; even an Uratha may hesitate to attack one. Most tend to simply see them as large, dirty soldiers, allowing them to blend in seamlessly to trench life. It is only amongst cities do they truly stand out.
Faceless Disquiet evokes the sorrow of the Western front within the afflicted. Their mockery of a face reminds them of a loved one, or an act of barbarity they themself performed. It becomes clear to them that the Tortured One is the root of these feelings, and like these dark memories, will seek to consign them to history.
Their Wastelands are a heavy cocktail of remorse and terror, causing people to jump from imaginary bangs, or feel a faint chemical burning.
Their name is well earned, as the Faceless’ features are those of stern mud golems. Their outward shell is hardened and blackened mud which cakes the internal tangle of limbs constantly burning in a putrid, self-contained vat of deadly chemicals. They are hulking and square in stature. The eyes of a Tortured One are deep-set holes that they have personally bored into the cracked lines of their faces during their agonizing creation with their thick fingers, their mouths are thin, fissured slits that are painful to move. They can show no expression as their hardened surface does not lend itself to great movements of the face, they cover this up by donning large gas masks that cover their entire head, giving them their title.
- , p. 422-425