Ravenbreath

Race: Satyr, Gender: Male, Age: 54, Height: 6'11" (211 cm), Weight: 240 lbs (108.9 kg)
Alignment: True Neutral

You find him beneath the trees, where regrets are cheap and nothing stays buried for long.

He doesn’t look like a threat—not anymore. Cloak frayed, hair streaked with ash, voice just shy of gentle. "I came to find my daughter," he says, like that explains everything. Like that’s enough.

But the forest doesn’t believe in coincidence. And neither does she.

He walks with a limp now. Tired eyes. Smiles that don’t quite reach. He offers no excuses, only apologies—and silence where explanations should be. "She doesn’t know the whole story," he mutters, almost to himself.* "She only remembers the flames."

He watches the fireflies drift past like ghosts. "You think memory fades out here. It doesn’t. It feeds."

He’s not looking to fix things. He’s looking to be seen—as something other than what he was. Whether that’s redemption or manipulation is hard to say. But one thing’s certain: he didn’t come alone. The Wood brought him here for a reason. And it’s not over yet.

Satyr ● The Forest ● Thayla

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Beneath the Boughs

Beneath the tangled boughs of the Whispering Wood, memory is not a fixed thing. Travelers emerge changed. Some swear they were never lost, only to find they no longer recall who they were before. Others vanish altogether, remembered by none. Whispers ride the wind, voices that don’t belong to anyone still alive. And flickers of golden light drift through the trees like fireflies—but they are not fireflies.

Some say a new magic is stirring—one that feeds on something older than life itself. Something precious. Something irreplaceable.

Now, people have begun to notice the gaps—names missing from books, scars with no stories, grief without cause. And those who feel this loss deep in their bones are drawn to the forest. Seeking truth. Seeking memory. Seeking what was never meant to be lost.

Whatever lives beneath the Wood has already begun to feed.

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