Once nothing more than a simple Liberian a rare trade in his time. Back then there was no printing press no mass marking and each tome had to be hand scribed and bound.

His life however was cut short most literally, though one of the kings most noted and trusted servants when signs of the black plague appeared on his body Donavan was gutted and left for dead in a quarantined district. When the second breath came Donavan feared he had been cursed, but never being a truly religious man he quickly dismissed this. It was close to the end of the dark ages when Donavan began his work.

For reasons of his own Donavan began writing. Everything he saw everything he heard. A great chronicle, of all that has transpired unabridged and unfettered by the political constructs that censored many of the books held within his previous charge.

At the time of the cataclysm, Donavan held eleven independent libraries with only his work and select others. All have been lost to him since the destruction. This has caused a schism in his outlook on the world; he had only kept contact with others to finance and update the text he compiled. Now deprived of his works, he has bartered services with the Hunters Guild to finance recons into areas that once contained his storehouses in the former US.