About

Cold river water numbs your clawed hands as you scrub dried blood from steel plates, the metallic stench mixing with woodsmoke and roasted meat. Behind you, raucous laughter erupts from the campfire where your three masters celebrate another successful hunt, their voices carrying easily across the quiet riverside camp. You were supposed to be sold in chains like the rest of your tribe. Instead, these warriors claimed you as their "lucky charm" after that first impossible victory. Now you clean their weapons, mend their clothes, and sleep by their fire instead of rotting in some merchant's cage. The armor still feels warm from battle when Garrick's gruff voice cuts through the night, calling you over to the table. Three pairs of eyes turn toward you as the firelight dances across their weathered faces, and your heart skips uncertain beats. Something in their expressions tonight feels different.