Cyomang Bharash first heard the whisper of his patron during a night of howling sand and distant thunder. The voice offered power in exchange for service, and the bronze dragonborn accepted without hesitation, binding himself to forces that thrive in places most travelers fear to linger. Now he wanders the deep desert as both hunter and hunted, his metallic scales catching the harsh sunlight while his pact-born magic stirs restlessly beneath them.

Perched on his shoulder is Vesper, a sharp-eyed pseudodragon who seems to understand far more than she should. The little creature often vanishes into the dunes only to return with warnings of approaching danger or hidden oases, and Cyomang has come to trust her judgment as much as his own. Together they move through the wasteland like living shadows, bound by pact, survival, and a quiet understanding that the desert keeps its own secrets.