Myriad Legends
Characters
Myriad Legends
Dungeons & Dragons 5e
Level
3
Experience
1,100 XP
Realm:
Magneland
Region:
Tarnoval
Gold:
260
DA:
1
Race:
lycanthrope
Class:
monstrous hero
Completed:
3
Most recent:
16 days ago
Weretiger Lycanthrope — Former Green Marches Scout — Condemned Prisoner
Kaelin Torvann was born on the ragged edge of the Green Marches, where thick forests meet colder northern winds. Life in the borderlands bred self-sufficiency and silence—two things Kaelin excelled at from childhood. He learned early to track deer by broken lichen, find water by reading moss growth, and listen for trouble in the way the birds stopped singing.
He joined the Marches border scouts as a teenager, patrolling the dense woodlands between Tarnoval and the fae-touched west. Kaelin was known among the rangers for three things:
His skill made him valuable. His solitude made him forgettable. He preferred it that way.
Everything changed one winter patrol.
Kaelin tracked something through snow—massive pawprints too large for any mountain cat, but too quiet for a bear. The forest felt wrong. Still. Watching him.
The last thing he remembered was the sound of breathing behind him.
He awoke in an isolated hunting cabin, bodies shredded around him—three poachers and a courier wearing the crest of House Yrskell, a noble house with ties to Tarnoval. His wounds were nearly healed. His fingernails were broken and bloodied. His memory was gone.
Kaelin begged to be executed. Instead, the Marches tribunal condemned him to Fort Briar with the rest of the hopeless. They feared the curse in his blood but feared the House Yrskell scandal more.
The Condemned Legion called him “Redmaw.”
No one asked whether he hated the name.
No one stayed close enough to find out.
Kaelin is a man in his early thirties, though the curse has begun to sharpen his features in ways that do not look fully human:
Even in pure human form, people often step back from him without understanding why. Something in his posture signals danger—deep, primal danger.
Kaelin is not savage.
He is not cruel.
But he is dangerous, and he knows it.
Kaelin speaks rarely, preferring to watch and listen. His silences are not hostile—they are calculated, the stillness of a predator waiting for the right moment to act. He often notices details others ignore: shifting winds, a distant metallic scent, someone’s heartbeat rising.
Despite the curse bound to his blood, Kaelin retains a surprising amount of humanity. He avoids unnecessary violence. He despises the idea of killing innocents and has long feared what he might do if he loses control again.
He carries guilt for crimes he may not even remember committing.
Kaelin keeps his word once given—perhaps because it’s one of the few things still his. He treats fairness as a lifeline to morality, clinging to small acts of honesty and restraint to anchor himself against the tide of savagery beneath his skin.
The nights near the full moon weigh on him. He becomes terse, restless, pacing like a caged beast. He warns others to keep distance. It is not false modesty or theatrics—it is genuine fear of what he may become.
His decisions often follow instinct rather than logic. He trusts his senses—even when he distrusts everything else, including his memories.
