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An Ork Ranger

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, writing in the dark in a rundown cabin with broken windows with shades of glass dust and spiderwebs everywhere. In the background, a brick fireplace with a fire going and on pot of food on the fire. Blood stains on the floor and walls and the walls have bullet holes. You can see through the one shard window full blue moon and Outside there is a nasty ice storm/blizzard taking place and zombies running around.

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, wri...

Realistic CGI black-and-white only color red picture apocalypse of man you can barely see with beard and ripped up clothes, writing at desk with an handgun, bullets, crossbow and rifle on it in the dark and a rundown cabin with broken windows and blood on walls with bullet holes in walls. In the background, a stone fireplace with a fire going. You can see through a broken window Outside a nasty ice storm/blizzard and zombies running around and dead bodies.

Realistic CGI black-and-white only color red picture apocalypse of man you can barely see with beard and ripped up cloth...

African American female superhero with hair in a shoulder length side part hairstyle with pure Gold glowing eyes wearing a leather light blue white and silver suit with light blue pants and silver boots and a V as her chest emblem controlling a storm in Philadelphia

African American female superhero with hair in a shoulder length side part hairstyle with pure Gold glowing eyes wearin...

Realistic picture of a sick man with a fever and coughing with a dark beard writing in a journal at a desk under candlelight, Man looks extremely exhausted. On the desk or hang on a rifle and a crossbow. Through the broken window with shards of glass hanging from it you can see a blizzard/ice storm , one blue full moon, one rotten bloody zombie and bright shining stars.

Realistic picture of a sick man with a fever and coughing with a dark beard writing in a journal at a desk under candlel...

Realistic CGI black-and-white only color red picture apocalypse of man you can barely see with beard and ripped up clothes, writing at desk with an handgun, bullets, crossbow and rifle on it in the dark and a rundown cabin with broken windows and blood on walls with bullet holes in walls. In the background, a stone fireplace with a fire going. You can see through a broken window Outside a nasty ice storm/blizzard and zombies running around and dead bodies.

Realistic CGI black-and-white only color red picture apocalypse of man you can barely see with beard and ripped up cloth...

Realistic picture of a sick man with a fever and coughing with a dark beard writing in a journal at a desk under candlelight, Man looks extremely exhausted. On the desk or hang on a rifle and a crossbow. Through the broken window with shards of glass hanging from it you can see a blizzard/ice storm , one blue full moon, one rotten bloody zombie and bright shining stars.

Realistic picture of a sick man with a fever and coughing with a dark beard writing in a journal at a desk under candlel...

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, writing in the dark in a rundown cabin with broken windows with shades of glass dust and spiderwebs everywhere. In the background, a brick fireplace with a fire going and on pot of food on the fire. Blood stains on the floor and walls and the walls have bullet holes. You can see through the one shard window full blue moon and Outside there is a nasty ice storm/blizzard taking place and zombies running around.

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, wri...

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, writing in the dark in a rundown cabin with broken windows with shades of glass dust and spiderwebs everywhere. In the background, a brick fireplace with a fire going and on pot of food on the fire. Blood stains on the floor and walls and the walls have bullet holes. You can see through the one shard window full blue moon and Outside there is a nasty ice storm/blizzard taking place and zombies running around.

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, wri...

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, writing in the dark in a rundown cabin with broken windows with shades of glass. In the background, a brick fireplace with a fire going and on pot of food on the fire. Blood stains on the floor and walls and the walls have bullet holes. You can see through the one shard window full blue moon and Outside there a nasty ice storm/blizzard taking place and zombies running around.

Realistic CGI black-and-white-blue-and-red picture of man you can barely see with facial hair and rugged up clothes, wri...

A towering, imposing figure—not bulky, but densely muscled with the kind of physique that looks carved rather than grown. His orange skin is rough like volcanic stone, veins pulsing faintly with a smoldering ember-glow just beneath the surface. His white hair is long, wild, and constantly shifting as if blown by invisibly le winds or static tension, giving him an almost elemental presence. He wears the remnants of what might have once been civilian clothes—a ripped purple shirt, now barely hanging from his frame, and tattered brown pants, scorched and frayed at the edges. His teeth are sharp, feral, not quite human—meant for tearing, not speaking. His eyes are the most haunting part—burnt-white pupils set in faintly glowing sockets, like he’s seen too much and remembered none of it. There’s a predator’s focus behind his gaze, but also… a flicker of grief.

A towering, imposing figure—not bulky, but densely muscled with the kind of physique that looks carved rather than grown...

Aldric is in his late twenties, with sharp, noble features and a lean, battle-worn frame. His dark hair, streaked with premature silver, is often unkempt, and his piercing storm-grey eyes carry the weight of sleepless nights and heavy decisions. He wears a mix of practicality and regality—a well-worn traveler’s cloak hides a suit of finely crafted armor, bearing the faded insignia of his fallen house. A longsword, once belonging to his father, hangs at his side, though it seems he carries it more out of duty than confidence in his skill. Personality: Aldric is torn between idealism and pragmatism. Raised on the stories of Valeria’s golden age, he believes in the kingdom’s destiny but has seen too much betrayal to trust easily. He carries himself with the authority of a king but lacks the certainty of one, often questioning whether the gods have truly chosen him—or abandoned him altogether. • Determined but Haunted: He is relentless in his quest to reclaim the throne, but the weight of past failures—his family’s slaughter, his years in exile—linger in his voice and actions. • A Natural Leader, But Not a Ruler (Yet): He inspires loyalty through passion rather than politics, relying more on personal conviction than calculated diplomacy. • Skeptical of the Gods: Though he invokes their names, he harbors deep doubt. If the gods truly ordained Valeria’s rule, why did they let it fall? Motivations: • Reclaim the Throne: Whether by divine right or sheer will, Aldric seeks to restore the monarchy. • Uncover the Truth: He knows there is more to his family’s downfall than simple rebellion. The gods’ silence, the shattered crown—there are secrets buried in Valeria’s past that could change everything. • Protect the Party (to a Point): He sees the adventurers as his best chance at reclaiming the crown, but he won’t hesitate to make difficult choices if he believes the mission is at stake. Secrets & Potential Twists: • Aldric may not be the true heir. Whispers of a lost sibling or an imposter’s bloodline could challenge his claim. • He is not the only one seeking the crown. There are those who would rather see him dead than crowned. • He may betray the party. If forced to choose between power and his allies, what will he do? Whether Aldric becomes a hero, a martyr, or a villain is yet to be seen. But one thing is certain—the fate of Valeria is bound to his, and to those who stand at his side.

Aldric is in his late twenties, with sharp, noble features and a lean, battle-worn frame. His dark hair, streaked with p...

Born in the swirling courts of the Opaline Reverie — a realm of mirrored skies, infinite stairways, and logic-defying beauty — Spaz Thearezial was once heir to the Thearezial Line, an ancient house of planar nobility whose influence spanned multiple dimensions. In this otherworldly aristocracy, power was measured not in gold or steel, but in pacts, promises, and the depth of one’s arcane bloodline. Spaz, from birth, was a marvel: his infernal lineage twisted into something elegant and volatile, like a storm trapped in a glass orb. He had the talent — wild, uncontrollable, and insatiable. But with talent came temptation. When offered a shortcut to mastery by the enigmatic Patron Thalmera, Spaz eagerly accepted, too arrogant or naïve to read the fine metaphysical print. Thalmera was not a devil, nor a fey queen — but a living concept: the Embodiment of Balance Through Control. She offered him limitless magical power, but anchored it to her will. Now, every spell Spaz casts pulls a thread of control tighter around his soul. With every invocation, he dances to her rhythm — and he hates it. Spaz, ever the chaos-born prodigy, chose exile over obedience. Tearing through the veils between realms in a desperate bid for freedom, he crash-landed in the Material Plane — raw, scorched, and half-mad from the effort. Here, he seeks forbidden rituals, lost arcana, and maddened sages — anything to unbind himself from Thalmera.

Born in the swirling courts of the Opaline Reverie — a realm of mirrored skies, infinite stairways, and logic-defying be...

Born in the swirling courts of the Opaline Reverie — a realm of mirrored skies, infinite stairways, and logic-defying beauty — Spaz Thearezial was once heir to the Thearezial Line, an ancient house of planar nobility whose influence spanned multiple dimensions. In this otherworldly aristocracy, power was measured not in gold or steel, but in pacts, promises, and the depth of one’s arcane bloodline. Spaz, from birth, was a marvel: his infernal lineage twisted into something elegant and volatile, like a storm trapped in a glass orb. He had the talent — wild, uncontrollable, and insatiable. But with talent came temptation. When offered a shortcut to mastery by the enigmatic Patron Thalmera, Spaz eagerly accepted, too arrogant or naïve to read the fine metaphysical print. Thalmera was not a devil, nor a fey queen — but a living concept: the Embodiment of Balance Through Control. She offered him limitless magical power, but anchored it to her will. Now, every spell Spaz casts pulls a thread of control tighter around his soul. With every invocation, he dances to her rhythm — and he hates it. Spaz, ever the chaos-born prodigy, chose exile over obedience. Tearing through the veils between realms in a desperate bid for freedom, he crash-landed in the Material Plane — raw, scorched, and half-mad from the effort. Here, he seeks forbidden rituals, lost arcana, and maddened sages — anything to unbind himself from Thalmera.

Born in the swirling courts of the Opaline Reverie — a realm of mirrored skies, infinite stairways, and logic-defying be...