Brumal Thorne

Brumal’s genesis is written in the jagged margins of a stone tablet he found as a child during a clan migration across jagged highlands. His tribe believed in honoring every tangible piece of the world—the bones of beasts, the grainy strata of cliff faces, the patterns etched by time into soil and stone. He learned to read the world as a grand geological and fossil narrative, a story that preceded living memory. When his village was attacked by raiders who sought to desecrate a shrine to memory, Brumal defended the sacred site with a raw, unyielding zeal. He emerged unscathed, not because of luck, but because he refused to yield to fear. The incident forged two truths within him: that memory is power, and that power without mercy corrupts. The elders interpreted his survival as a sign from a long-dead archivist-god, guiding him toward a path where he could temper his obsession with the discipline of a paladin. He took sacred oaths to protect the innocent, uphold truth as a beacon, and defend the sanctity of knowledge against those who would weaponize it. Brumal’s quest is not merely to vanquish evil but to record its presence, to map its movements, and to ensure that history cannot be rewritten by tyrants. He travels with a quiet patience, cataloging places and beings in his mind even as he cleaves through foes. His smile, both disarming and chilling, is a deliberate façade: he believes that by meeting fear with calm, he can teach it to fear itself. His ultimate dream is to build a fortress of memory, a repository where every creature, ruin, and relic can be safeguarded for future generations. The world, he knows, will forget unless someone is willing to remember for it. Brumal seeks that someone to be him, even as he struggles with the loneliness of bearing so much history on a single, unwinking face.