His name is Tarsh. He is a Cossack.
In his younger days he was ruthless, cunning and as fiesty as any other Cossack.
He enjoyed life and was not afraid to live to the extremes of his abilities. In fact his Cossack friends called him 'the rampant bear', a name he was proud of.
Money nor love interested him, he lived to be a Cossack.
But time, as merciless as it is, has caught up with him.
His once handsome features have been replaced by weather beaten and craggy features. His body strong and athletic now a just a shadow of it's former self. His feistiness replaced by apathy and numbness.
His trusty horse of many a year ,'Sword of Damacles', mirrored his master's downfall, a true friend.
The public he once protected with admiration, now turned away in vicious disgust.
But today, today, he realised why his past life had come and gone. Why his glory was taken away from him. Why glory was replaced with shame.
All he did was look into the eye of 'Sword of Damacles', and he saw what he had known all along. We understand nothing about other creatures and about ourselves, and never will.

Well it sounded good at the time.