Name: Krisha Aradóttir Race: Human Class: Warlock Age: 23 Height: 171 cm

Backstory: ' Twas another senseless purge, another ruthless battle her crew had to suffer through. The stench of rain and burnt iron hung heavy over the muddy field. They were gone. Every last one of them.

Ever since she was a nameless orphan scavenging in the slums, the crew had been her only true family, enough to adopt one that could be considered her parental figure's last name. They gave her a name, a home, and an oath that everyone insisted would always keep them together. But against the witch’s unending tide, that oath and loyalty meant nothing. With every clash, the witch’s army strengthened, while Krisha’s companions grew fewer and weaker. Until today’s final senseless purge took the last of them.

She remembered watching them fall; hearing the sickening cracks and desperate final cries as everything she held dear was destroyed before her eyes. In that moment of unbearable despair, something inside her broke. She shattered her sworn oath, casting aside her prayers to cry into the dark for anything that would grant her power.

And something answered.

Now, Krisha sits in the damp grass, gently holding a yellow daylily. In the old stories, daylilies symbolized hope and new beginnings; a chance to bloom after the storm. But as she stares at it with her now-corrupted eyes, the vibrant yellow feels like a cruel mockery. The dark patron's power surges through her veins, and its voice echoes in her mind. The entity does not bring renewal. It bleeds into the earth around her, keeping the flower pristine while corrupting her soul from within.

Her former vows are dead, replaced by a cold, burning bargain. She will hunt down the witch and burn her army to ash, not for glory or salvation, but for vengeance.