Ashen Lands

Thaddeus has messy brown hair that falls loosely around his face and bright green eyes that seem to miss nothing. His pale skin stands out against the black leather tunic and cape he wears, practical and worn from years of use. Though his youthful face hides much, a brand on his tongue reminds him—and anyone who gets too close—that he’s witnessed far more than his years should allow.

Thaddeus has a sharp tongue and a sly grin, always ready with a joke to deflect a moment of tension. He’s smooth in his movements, almost unnervingly so, as if the past never caught up to him. But sometimes, when he thinks no one’s looking, the mask slips, and there’s a quietness about him that speaks louder than words.

Sold for a handful of coins by kin too poor or too cruel to care, Thaddeus was taken in by House Vauclair—a noble line rotted with sadism in a distant land far from Tiryndor. They branded his tongue to silence him, dressed him in the flayed skins of escapees, and made him clean blood from stone floors while nobles dined above. He learned to walk without sound, to vanish when struck, to listen through walls and carry secrets like knives. One night, during a feast drowned in wine and screams, he slipped into the drains and crawled through a tunnel choked with corpses and filth. Now he roams the Ashen Lands, searching for peace and freedom he may never find, the weight of his past growing heavier with each passing day, harder to escape.