Warden Thal's story begins in clan Karath'zul, a proud dragonborn lineage whose warriors served for generations as planewatchers—soldiers who guarded their mountain holds against aberrant incursions from beyond reality. Thal was raised on stories of ancestors who held gates against things without names, and he took the warden's oath young: his body would be the wall, his axe the gate. He was strong even then, and honorable, and his clanmates spoke of him as a future warleader.
He was also, though he never confessed it, carrying a blood-debt: in a duel over an insult to his mate, he killed a clanmate, and the clan's law required a penance he could not bear to face.
When a Cartographer survey team offered coin for hardened soldiers to escort an expedition into a planar tear beneath the Astral Sea, Thal volunteered—not for glory, though he told himself it was for glory, but to run. The expedition found the tear, and the tear found them. What came through did not simply kill; it unmade and remade. Thal remembers only fragments: his shield-brother's scream bending into harmonics no throat should make, light that tasted of rot, and a voice—patient, vast, amused—offering to take the guilt from him if he would only let the void in.
He let it in. His scales cracked and veined violet; his eyes went green; his clan's sacred greataxe, Dawnbreaker, forged to slay aberrations, was inverted into a thing that drips void-stuff.
Thal does not remember how he left the tear. He remembers waking in Veyron's fortress, whole and strong and empty, and Veyron's calm voice explaining that the Far Realm is the true reality, and that Thal had been chosen. Gratitude twisted into loyalty; loyalty into worship; worship into the numb brutality that now defines him. Veyron wove a failsafe into his flesh—the Dissolution—so that no one could ever capture and study a cured warden. Thal commands the fortress guard with his fear aura, drills the cult fanatics mercilessly, and serves as Veyron's executioner.
But the void did not take everything. His hatchmate Vorath was taken alive from the same expedition and remains a lab specimen in the fortress—half-transformed, whispering. Thal's war-horn sits in Veyron's trophy vault. A pouch with his unhatched sibling's eggshell fragment is hidden in his quarters. And in rare seconds of stillness, his eyes flicker bronze. The Far Realm made Thal a weapon; it could not quite make him forget he was a wall once, and walls, even broken ones, remember what they were built to protect.
Whether Thal dissolves into Far Realm energy on some obsidian platform or stands cured in the silver void, axe restored, depends entirely on whether anyone cares enough to capture the monster alive.