After the tragic loss of Caer Darrow to the Cult of the Damned, Gaufred Fidentius' unconscious body was recovered by fellow Knights of the Silver Hand who had survived the undead holocaust in Darrowmere Forest. News of the death of Lord Uther the Lightbringer stirred outrage and terror into Lordaeron's remaining denizens, and many fled the northeastern kingdom entirely; namely to Stormwind or Theramore. However, the surviving knights set on retribution, embarked westward in pursuit of rumors that Hearthglenn endured as Lordaeron's last standing city. In these dark times, the Eastern Plaguelands, as it then became known, was entirely lost to the living.
Gaufred arose into consciousness amidst this very diaspora. By mere fortune alone, he had awoken in Mardenholde's infirmary to learn he was quite possibly the sole survivor of Caer Darrow. The paladin was stricken by grief, contemplating the fate of his family, and swearing vengeance against the Scourge. His ideals were shattered to the point by which he was unable to call upon the Holy Light, and it seemed that it had abandoned him. Some whisper it was the wounds he had received in battle, or perhaps just the shock of seeing his entire purpose destroyed, but since that day Gaufred Fidentius was never the same.
Vendetta, for a time, became all that motivated the fallen paladin. Though he exhibited suicidal tendencies, vengeance was closest to his heart. Such holy cruelty had become incumbent among all those able avengers who had survived the Fall of Lordaeron. He joined his remaning brethren in suppressing attacks made by the Scourge on Hearthglenn, and even fighting in skirmishes throughout the plagued forests of Darrowmere as part of reconnaissance. He slew the undead without mercy, imprisoning cultists for the purpose of interrogation. Once he had extracted information about the Cult of the Damned's horrible experimentation within the Scholomance, Gaufred subjected his prisoners to unspeakable torture in wake of his anger. Only when he had grown bored of his subjects, would he release them to deaths embrace. He took great pleasure in watching them burn slowly at the stake. He would cackle like a madman into the dead of night as their scent of roasted fat and dreadful screams fueled his hatred. No one questioned his ethics. In those dark times the surviving people of Lordaeron felt that such cruel and unusual punishment was justified. After all, corruption is just a nasty word for the autumn of a people.