Voritha Thakren

Voritha Thakren wears slate-black leather scored with pale keloid scars from past psionic shocks. Their short blade and tethered hunting bag hang from a webbed harness; the bellows of a dead windpipe call the kill count—click, click—while they stalk. A calm, low-voiced question follows every trap: “Which one breaks first?” When cornered, they burn calming sigils into the air and let the calm do the hunting.