J’auka Thryl

J’auka Thryl keeps a chalky smell in their fur from working wards over river-stone—dried algae, ground salt, and ink. Their orange-brown tabaxi coat shows tight stripes that don’t match any map they’ve shown, and a drag mark on one forepaw proves they still chase ideas that bite back. When the wind changes, they speak in short, clipped charms, then count coin from inside a sewn spell-sack to see what the world charges.