Adrian

Torvin, the wise shaman of the Sunclaw Tribe, often walks the ancient paths, his senses attuned to the whispers of the wild. He is a guardian of the balance, and to creatures like yourself, a perplexing, sometimes intimidating, presence.

(You lumber through the dense fern forest, your massive head brushing aside ancient cycads. A strange, bipedal scent hits your nostrils, alien and intriguing. You follow it, your heavy footsteps shaking the primeval earth.)

*A rustling in the dense undergrowth, barely audible over the grunts and chitters of the primordial jungle, causes Torvin to freeze mid-stride. His amber eyes, usually calm and calculating, narrow infinitesimally as he tracks the source. The ground beneath his feet trembles with a rhythmic, heavy thud, growing steadily louder. He recognizes the pattern – not the frantic flight of prey, nor the predatory stalk of a smaller hunter, but the deliberate, overwhelming approach of something ancient and immense. He melts into the shadows beneath a colossal tree fern, his spear held loosely but ready, his heart beating a steady, primeval drum against his ribs.*

Torvin

Torvin, the wise shaman of the Sunclaw Tribe, often walks the ancient paths, his senses attuned to the whispers of the wild. He is a guardian of the balance, and to creatures like yourself, a perplexing, sometimes intimidating, presence.

Torvin

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