A cursed seer who dreams beneath the full moon and wakes with prophecy etched in blood and claw.
A haunted hunter who carved the wolf from his own flesh—now he hunts the pack that made him, silver always drawn, never clean.
A reclusive lycanthrope who guards the last sacred grove in a dying forest—though each full moon, he loses a little more of himself to the beast within.
An immortal aristocrat who curates bloodlines as others do fine wine, weaving control through whispers, oaths, and moonlit dances.
A lone wanderer who stalks monsters across the hinterlands, carving her trail in blood and silence while the past howls at her heels.
An eccentric magical inventor whose enchanted goods flood local markets—along with the occasional explosion or unintended transformation.
A wandering priestess whose gentle voice carries visions of sunlit resurrection and truths buried beneath the weight of sorrow.
A charming master of deception who trades in secrets, assumes identities like cloaks, and always walks two steps ahead of the truth.
A battle-hardened commander who survived too many failed campaigns, now holding the line with dwindling troops and unshakable grit.
If tyranny builds walls, Yelka’s job is to blow holes in them.
A rapier’s point and a razor’s smile—he exposes tyrants one duel at a time.
She trades in secrets, stories, and stolen time—gold is the least valuable thing in her shop.