PLAYABLE CHARACTERS
PLAYABLE
CHARACTERS
“The rage is always there, lurking under my skin. The beast wants out. Someday the chains will snap. I hope that a worthy challenger stands before me when they do.”
Gral the Mountain
Gral the Mountain
A towering figure, hails from the mountain villages of the north where strength and endurance are prized above all. Born to half-orc parents, at the remarkable age of 13 he lifted the Kharnak Stone, becoming the youngest chosen man in his tribe. By 16 he could raise the colossal slab of granite high over his head with ease, earning him his mighty name and leading to whispered rumours he was descended from giants.
In combat, he is ferocious and wild. Prone to the red rage, a bloody berserker wrath that is common among his people. He fights to control that rage and exercise the beast inside.
Finding no man remaining to challenge him in combat, Gral left the isolated community of the peaks beginning an endless pilgrimage to prove himself as the strongest warrior in the land. The ship he was on was sucked into the Storm and he found himself shipwrecked on the coast of Tidefall, a new land of challenges.
A towering figure, hails from the mountain villages of the north where strength and endurance are prized above all. Born to half-orc parents, at the remarkable age of 13 he lifted the Kharnak Stone, becoming the youngest chosen man in his tribe. By 16 he could raise the colossal slab of granite high over his head with ease, earning him his mighty name and leading to whispered rumours he was descended from giants.
In combat, he is ferocious and wild. Prone to the red rage, a bloody berserker wrath that is common among his people. He fights to control that rage and exercise the beast inside.
Finding no man remaining to challenge him in combat, Gral left the isolated community of the peaks beginning an endless pilgrimage to prove himself as the strongest warrior in the land. The ship he was on was sucked into the Storm and he found himself shipwrecked on the coast of Tidefall, a new land of challenges.
Thalric Thistlewell
Thalric “Giltongue” Thistlewell was born with two gifts: music and mischief. From his father, he learned melody, and from his mother, drink. Whilst his cousins clanged iron in the forges of Achin, Thalric wandered tavern to tavern with a lute on his back and ale in hand, earning coin with song as quickly as he lost it with dice.
Years of roaming the same villages dulled Thalric’s inspiration, and as a poet in need of a fresh muse, he packed a kit and set off in search of adventure, which he found in the port city of Stumrode.
After five songs, four barrels of mead, three games of dice, two kisses from a husband and wife, and a tavern brawl for the ages, Thalric awoke to the worst hangover of his life in the hold of a ship called the Delight. With no memory of boarding, he staggered topside just in time to see the storm wall pull them in.
As brave men screamed and wept, Thalric cackled and gave his best performance yet.
Now, washed ashore with a broken lute, he’s certain Tidefall will inspire his best ballad yet.
Thalric “Giltongue” Thistlewell was born with two gifts: music and mischief. From his father, he learned melody, and from his mother, drink. Whilst his cousins clanged iron in the forges of Achin, Thalric wandered tavern to tavern with a lute on his back and ale in hand, earning coin with song as quickly as he lost it with dice.
Years of roaming the same villages dulled Thalric’s inspiration, and as a poet in need of a fresh muse, he packed a kit and set off in search of adventure, which he found in the port city of Stumrode.
After five songs, four barrels of mead, three games of dice, two kisses from a husband and wife, and a tavern brawl for the ages, Thalric awoke to the worst hangover of his life in the hold of a ship called the Delight. With no memory of boarding, he staggered topside just in time to see the storm wall pull them in.
As brave men screamed and wept, Thalric cackled and gave his best performance yet.
Now, washed ashore with a broken lute, he’s certain Tidefall will inspire his best ballad yet.
“The sea didn’t just take my ship—it took the last bottle of brandy I had left. Now that’s a real tragedy.”
Thalric Thistlewell
“Power looks like control, but it’s fragile. You have to be smart, fan the flame, but if you break the illusion, you can flay them with the shreds of what they took for granted.”
Lysandra Astrel
Lysandra Astrel
Lysandra Astrel’s arcane abilities were realised when, as a teen, she awoke from a fever dream, retching a language not even elven scholars could decipher. Naturally, the Arcane Academy took an interest in her, taking her in out of fear rather than kindness.
Whilst others memorised incantations, Lysandra chased symbols she saw in her dreams, making a pact with unknown dark forces. When her experiments shattered a scrying mirror and revealed that the Academy’s dean was exploiting younger, more vulnerable students, she was accused of heresy and bound with a curse of silence. Exiled, she left the only world she’d known voiceless, severed from her power.
Desperate to escape her pain, she boarded a vessel bound for an ancient forest to the west, but after encountering an unrelenting storm at sea, she awoke on Tidefall to discover that the curse had shattered, passing The Storm had unleashed her pact and restored her voice.
Lysandra Astrel’s arcane abilities were realised when, as a teen, she awoke from a fever dream, retching a language not even elven scholars could decipher. Naturally, the Arcane Academy took an interest in her, taking her in out of fear rather than kindness.
Whilst others memorised incantations, Lysandra chased symbols she saw in her dreams, making a pact with unkown dark forces. When her experiments shattered a scrying mirror and revealed that the Academy’s dean was exploiting younger, more vulnerable students, she was accused of heresy and bound with a curse of silence. Exiled, she left the only world she’d known voiceless, severed from her power.
Desperate to escape her pain, she boarded a vessel bound for an ancient forest to the west, but after encountering an unrelenting storm at sea, she awoke on Tidefall to discover that the curse had shattered, passing The Storm had unleashed her pact and restored her voice.
Febeor
Deglade
After a violent supper quarrel sent Lady Delsa the Cunning into early labour, Febeor Claverry-Deglade was born after three agonising days. Delsa didn’t survive, and so, from the beginning, Febeor earned little affection. His father, Lord Claverry, enjoyed his widowerhood, and with two thriving elder sons, a sickly Febeor was often left in the shadows. Growing up with his head buried in books, Febeor shunned his family’s ire, finding solace in learning.
The scholarchy welcomed his intellect, and magic soon became more than theory. When Lord Claverry died, Febeor barely blinked, but when his eldest brother assumed the title, he purged the estate of its “parasites,” Febeor included. Banished with a modest sum and beset by frauds, Febeor’s exile turned him bitter, grey, and deeply mistrustful.
Years later, and still ever-curious, whispers of a scholarly expedition to the storm-smothered “lost island” reached his ears, and Febeor couldn’t resist.
Now, shipwrecked and alone, Febeor masks terror with a noble’s cold detachment. Quiet and watchful, he aims to turn wit and learning into spell-slinging and return to the scholarchy a fear-inducing Nekramancer.
After a violent supper quarrel sent Lady Delsa the Cunning into early labour, Febeor Claverry-Deglade was born after three agonising days. Delsa didn’t survive, and so, from the beginning, Febeor earned little affection. His father, Lord Claverry, enjoyed his widowerhood, and with two thriving elder sons, a sickly Febeor was often left in the shadows. Growing up with his head buried in books, Febeor shunned his family’s ire, finding solace in learning.
The scholarchy welcomed his intellect, and magic soon became more than theory. When Lord Claverry died, Febeor barely blinked, but when his eldest brother assumed the title, he purged the estate of its “parasites,” Febeor included. Banished with a modest sum and beset by frauds, Febeor’s exile turned him bitter, grey, and deeply mistrustful.
Years later, and still ever-curious, whispers of a scholarly expedition to the storm-smothered “lost island” reached his ears, and Febeor couldn’t resist.
Now, shipwrecked and alone, Febeor masks terror with a noble’s cold detachment. Quiet and watchful, he aims to turn wit and learning into spell-slinging and return to the scholarchy a fear-inducing Nekramancer.
“It’s an intoxicating prospect, understanding the magics of this Island will be the greatest discovery of our time.”
Febeor Deglade
“That fog took over a hundred of my kin. If it breathes from Tidefall, I’ll find the source. I will not stop until this curse is broken.”
Calas of Wynn
calas of WYNN
Calas of Wynn always preferred the solitude of the wild. A refugee of warring nations, he grew up wary of strangers and devoted himself to nature’s balance. But when he stumbled upon a lost youth from the coastal Mairfrith people and guided them safely back to their elders, the grateful clan invited him to share their hearth. They took him in as one of their own, and four years later, life alone on the trail seemed little more than a distant memory. That all changed the morning the fog crawled in.
Calas spotted the anomaly from the hills, a dark creeping sea fog, but by the time he returned it was too late. He had seen the horrific aftermath of battlefield plagues as a child, but this was different, something unnatural. The villagers were completely pale and bloodless, yet none bore any marks of violence or disease.
He cremated the tribe and set out in search of answers. Priests and scholars offered prayer and platitudes, but portside gossip gave him direction. Sailors spoke of an island engulfed in a perpetual storm, a tempest that was breathing this unnatural darkness across the sea. With no other answers on his horizon, he bought passage on a schooner heading east towards Tidefall, sailing straight into the heart of the gale.
Calas of Wynn always preferred the solitude of the wild. A refugee of warring nations, he grew up wary of strangers and devoted himself to nature’s balance. But when he stumbled upon a lost youth from the coastal Mairfrith people and guided them safely back to their elders, the grateful clan invited him to share their hearth. They took him in as one of their own, and four years later, life alone on the trail seemed little more than a distant memory. That all changed the morning the fog crawled in.
Calas spotted the anomaly from the hills, a dark creeping sea fog, but by the time he returned it was too late. He had seen the horrific aftermath of battlefield plagues as a child, but this was different, something unnatural. The villagers were completely pale and bloodless, yet none bore any marks of violence or disease.
He cremated the tribe and set out in search of answers. Priests and scholars offered prayer and platitudes, but portside gossip gave him direction. Sailors spoke of an island engulfed in a perpetual storm, a tempest that was breathing this unnatural darkness across the sea. With no other answers on his horizon, he bought passage on a schooner heading east towards Tidefall, sailing straight into the heart of the gale.
Enyo Kaeluma
Enyo, noble of House Kaeluma, fought to the last against the coup that shattered her family, but when a final act of defiance led to her sister’s death, she fled into the desert.
Starving and sun-blind, she mistook the banner of a grinning warlord for a vision of a god. The man was Baron Thale of the Drifts, and when his scouts dragged her before him, he took her in.
Consumed by grief, Enyo threw herself into his fighting pits. A skilled combatant, she rose quickly, becoming his prized champion, but when a challenger from her homeland revealed her sister lived and that Thale had known, a buried fury returned.
She confronted him. He denied it, but by dawn, she had the truth: her sister lived, somewhere in the northern kingdom of Thaedrun.
Enyo fled once more, leaving Thale’s corpse pinned to a mural of his own likeness. As enforcers chased her across the waves, she found herself caught between cannon fire and the Storm. With certain death all around her, she steered into the tempest.
Now stranded on Tidefall, she’ll do whatever it takes to find her sister.
Enyo, noble of House Kaeluma, fought to the last against the coup that shattered her family, but when a final act of defiance led to her sister’s death, she fled into the desert.
Starving and sun-blind, she mistook the banner of a grinning warlord for a vision of a god. The man was Baron Thale of the Drifts, and when his scouts dragged her before him, he took her in.
Consumed by grief, Enyo threw herself into his fighting pits. A skilled combatant, she rose quickly, becoming his prized champion, but when a challenger from her homeland revealed her sister lived and that Thale had known, a buried fury returned.
She confronted him. He denied it, but by dawn, she had the truth: her sister lived, somewhere in the northern kingdom of Thaedrun.
Enyo fled once more, leaving Thale’s corpse pinned to a mural of his own likeness. As enforcers chased her across the waves, she found herself caught between cannon fire and the Storm. With certain death all around her, she steered into the tempest.
Now stranded on Tidefall, she’ll do whatever it takes to find her sister.
“We lost, yes, but Kaeluma still stands, and if blades cannot break me… if the storm didn’t break me… what makes you think you will?”
Enyo Kaeluma
“You cannot fight what you cannot see. I live in the darkness, and no man escapes my blade.”
Maelis Draven
Maelis Draven
Maelis moves through the shadows with an unsettling, lethal grace. Born a minor noble, her youth was stolen when a trusted uncle slaughtered her parents to seize their estate. She escaped into the slums, only to be kidnapped by the Broken-Dolls, a ruthless guild that broke orphaned children through starvation and violence into emotionless assassins.
To their surprise, Maelis did not resist. She flourished. Hardening her heart, earning her captor’s trust and mastering the lethal arts with one goal in mind; to hunt her family’s conspirators. When a vital lead on her past finally surfaced, she executed the guild master in his sleep and fled into the night.
Maelis snuck aboard a merchant galley heading toward her Uncle’s estate, enduring weeks in the suffocating darkness of the cargo hold. Her journey ended in disaster when an unnatural storm caught the sails, sucking the ship in and shattering the hull against the cliffs of Tidefall.
She washed up onto the bleak sands with nothing but wet clothes, hidden blades, and a drive to survive.
Maelis moves through the shadows with an unsettling, lethal grace. Born a minor noble, her youth was stolen when a trusted uncle slaughtered her parents to seize their estate. She escaped into the slums, only to be kidnapped by the Broken-Dolls, a ruthless guild that broke orphaned children through starvation and violence into emotionless assassins.
To their surprise, Maelis did not resist. She flourished. Hardening her heart, earning her captor’s trust and mastering the lethal arts with one goal in mind; to hunt her family’s conspirators.
When a vital lead on her past finally surfaced, she executed the guildmaster in his sleep and fled into the night.
Maelis snuck aboard a merchant galley heading toward her Uncle’s estate, enduring weeks in the suffocating darkness of the cargo hold. Her journey ended in disaster when an unnatural storm caught the sails, sucking the ship in and shattering the hull against the cliffs of Tidefall.
She washed up onto the bleak sands with nothing but wet clothes, hidden blades, and a drive to survive.
Janus Corsayre
Janus Corsayre is a man wrapped in a dead sailor’s clothes and living under a stolen name.
He washed ashore on Tidefall after a lifetime spent as a ship’s cook, surviving the sudden catastrophe that sent his last vessel mast-up into the deep.
But Janus is far more than a simple galley-hand. Before the Storm cut off the world, he sailed with the rogue branch of the Sovran Mercer’s Guild. Now, stranded and desperate, Janus must navigate the dangerous world of Tidefall, knowing that his past is waiting for him just beyond the horizon.
Janus Corsayre is a man wrapped in a dead sailor’s clothes and living under a stolen name.
He washed ashore on Tidefall after a lifetime spent as a ship’s cook, surviving the sudden catastrophe that sent his last vessel mast-up into the deep.
But Janus is far more than a simple galley-hand. Before the Storm cut off the world, he sailed with the rogue branch of the Sovran Mercer’s Guild. Now, stranded and desperate, Janus must navigate the dangerous world of Tidefall, knowing that his past is waiting for him just beyond the horizon.
“Janus Corsayre died in the deep, and I’m just the ghost wearing his coat. But if you stand in my way, I promise you’ll become a real one.”
Janus Corsayre
“The sea took my armor, but it didn’t take my honor. If there’s a fight worth fighting on this miserable rock, you’ll find my blade at the front of it.”
Jozef Valthan
Jozef Valthan
Sir Jozef spent years fighting in the far eastern reaches for noble houses who used elegant words to hide ugly truths. Disgusted by a political game he never cared to learn, he walked away to become a Justicar. A lone knight sworn to an unyielding creed.
Devoted to walking the path of the Divine Virtues, Jozef prefers problems he can solve with a heavy shield or direct, honest talk. Searching for purpose, he boarded a vessel bound on a cursed mission: to break through the unnatural storm cutting the once wealthy island of Tidefall off from the world.
The voyage ended in predictable catastrophe. Now stranded within the tempest and bereft of almost all his worldly possessions, the weary veteran travels inland. He seeks neither wealth nor glory, but a pure cause worthy of his sword.
Sir Jozef spent years fighting in the far eastern reaches for noble houses who used elegant words to hide ugly truths. Disgusted by a political game he never cared to learn, he walked away to become a Justicar. A lone knight sworn to an unyielding creed.
Devoted to walking the path of the Divine Virtues, Jozef prefers problems he can solve with a heavy shield or direct, honest talk. Searching for purpose, he boarded a vessel bound on a cursed mission: to break through the unnatural storm cutting the once wealthy island of Tidefall off from the world.
The voyage ended in predictable catastrophe. Now stranded within the tempest and bereft of almost all his worldly possessions, the weary veteran travels inland. He seeks neither wealth nor glory, but a pure cause worthy of his sword.
Vriksa
Vriksa was once the pride of her Goruk clan, celebrated for her clever tricks and daring heists. Drawn by the thrill of the chase, her scores grew ever more perilous, but as is so often the case, her ambition would be her undoing.
Under the cloak of night, she attempted the unthinkable: stealing her chieftain’s crown. Caught in the act, she was sentenced to death. Bound to splintered driftwood and thrown into the sea, Vriksa hacked at her bonds with a blade hidden in her boot as the waves threatened to pull her below.
Desperate and adrift, she spotted a passing merchant ship and managed to stow away, but as she wrestled with the looming consequences, a savage storm tore through the horizon, consuming all souls aboard.
When next Vriksa opened her eyes, she found herself stranded on the sands of a strange new shore. With the storm still raging behind her, she headed inland in search of opportunity.
Vriksa was once the pride of her Goruk clan, celebrated for her clever tricks and daring heists. Drawn by the thrill of the chase, her scores grew ever more perilous, but as is so often the case, her ambition would be her undoing.
Under the cloak of night, she attempted the unthinkable: stealing her chieftain’s crown. Caught in the act, she was sentenced to death. Bound to splintered driftwood and thrown into the sea, Vriksa hacked at her bonds with a blade hidden in her boot as the waves threatened to pull her below.
Desperate and adrift, she spotted a passing merchant ship and managed to stow away, but as she wrestled with the looming consequences, a savage storm tore through the horizon, consuming all souls aboard.
When next Vriksa opened her eyes, she found herself stranded on the sands of a strange new shore. With the storm still raging behind her, she headed inland in search of opportunity.
“Tidefall is nothing but a pile of riches waiting for the right hands to take them. And trust me, mine are the right hands.”
Vriksa
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