Thayla Bloodhorn

A Land of Cinders

A land forged by fire, ruled by those it could not break.

Edge of the Known

A no-man’s land of wind, silence, and unseen watchers.

The Wild and the Walled

Beyond the city’s stone and smoke, the land grows untamed—forests thick with whispers, coves where shadows trade in silence.

36
Souls

2
Artifacts

32
Fables

12
Species

15
Settlements

✓ Silver Tongue, Hidden Daggers
✓ Mischief with Sharp Edges
✓ Wild Magic, Wild Mind

Race: Satyr, Gender: Female, Age: 35, Height: 6'5" (196 cm), Weight: 208 lbs (94.3 kg)
Alignment: Neutral Good

You meet her where smoke clings to the trees and questions burn hotter than the fires left behind.

The acrid scent of smoke clawed at her nostrils as she stood at the cliff’s edge, glowing green eyes locked on the inferno below. A village—now nothing more than splinters and screams. Golden-armored soldiers moved like gods through fire, their hands bathed in pulsing light that drained the very life from the earth.

She said nothing at first. Just watched. Then her fingers flexed, wild magic sparking beneath her skin. "So this is what they call salvation?" she hissed. The air around her crackled, alive with something old, something untamed.

She turned, eyes narrowing on the one foolish enough to trail her. "You there," she said, stepping forward with the swagger of someone used to being obeyed—or striking those who don’t. "You’re with me now. Into the Wood. We find out what this new magic is… and what it’s stealing."

Her voice softened slightly. "But try anything clever, and I’ll carve a new tune from your bones."

Satyr ● Thaylor ● Kregath

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.

✓ Unseen Guide
✓ Memory-Bound Mystery
✓ Living Forest Thread