✓ Old Wounds, New Fires
✓ Vengeance or Survival
✓ Victory is Never Clean
Kregath Bloodhorn
Race: Satyr, Gender: Male, Age: 27, Height: 7'2" (218 cm), Weight: 280 lbs (127 kg)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Your path leads them to Grimcrag Valley, where fate intertwines their mission with Kregath’s in the wake of the Army of Light’s actions.
The acrid scent of smoke clawed at his nostrils as he stood at the edge of the cliff, his glowing amber eyes locked on the inferno below. The once-thriving village nestled in the valley now writhed in flames, the Army of Light sweeping through like a storm of righteous fury. Men, women, and children—Satyr and human alike—fled in every direction, their cries swallowed by the crackle of burning wood and the shouts of zealots.
The weight of his battleaxe felt heavier in his grasp as Kregath’s gaze darkened. The self-righteous Army of Light claimed they burned for justice, but all Kregath saw was death. His claws tightened around the haft of his weapon, his muscles taut with restrained fury.
The weight of his battleaxe felt heavier in his grasp as Kregath’s gaze darkened. "Mark this day," he snarled, his voice a thunderous growl. "They will learn that even their ‘light’ cannot extinguish the fury of the Grimcrag."
They came bearing light, but left only fire. What began as a crusade wrapped in faith and purpose now cuts through the land with merciless precision. Villages smolder, homes are swallowed by flame, and those who once stood proud are driven to their knees beneath gleaming steel and sacred banners. It is no longer a campaign for belief—it is an extermination.
Among the scorched ruins, a leader rises—not for glory, but because there is no one else left to stand. The clans are scattered, divided by blood feuds and forgotten oaths. Yet if they do not come together, they will be wiped out one by one. Trust is scarce, but desperation is a powerful motivator, and old enemies may yet become uneasy allies.
But war rarely draws clean lines. In the smoke and confusion, unseen forces twist the tide. Some speak of hidden hands turning blades, of secrets buried beneath the chaos, of unseen puppeteers who profit from the blood spilled on both sides. This is not just a battle for survival—it is a reckoning.
✓ Old Wounds, New Fires
✓ Victory is Never Clean
✓ Vengeance or Survival
Cross my path, and I’ll show you how deep in my horns will go.
