Tʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ Rᴇᴀʟᴍs [Fᴀɴ Vᴇʀsɪᴏɴ]

A solemn Tiefling Warlock with silvery gray skin that shimmers with an opalescent sheen, cracked spiraling horns, and hollow black voids for eyes. He wears a pristine bartender’s apron over armor fused with crystal scars, giving him an ethereal yet grounded presence.

Zarrik is solemn but never severe. He believes all beings are fragments of larger stories, and considers it his calling to help people remember their place in the narrative—no matter how small or painful it may be.

Zarrik was once a warlord in Avernus, known for painting his infernal armor with the blood of fallen celestials—earning the name 'The Red.' But the deeper he delved into pact magic, the more he heard her, a voice like static between stars, offering not power but perspective. He abandoned the battlefield mid-siege and walked into the Astral Sea, never to return. When he emerged at the Astral & Otherwise, he was no longer red. His crimson skin had dulled to silvery gray, his memory cleansed of violence—but not of guilt. Now, Zarrik quietly tends the tavern’s glassware and collects whispered confessions from weary travelers. Some say he's trying to fill a void. Others believe he’s repenting by carrying the burden of others. No patron is forced to speak, but those who do often feel lighter afterward—and leave with insights they didn’t have when they arrived. Zarrik never judges. He simply listens.