From his hands flows celestial light, cleansing and healing wounds. An indispensable ally and loyal friend.

A common peasant who decided to trade the fields and plow for the battlefield and a club. Not much of a warrior.

Someone has to test the guild's new potions, and it's best done in battle.

Blightwood is teeming with these creatures, the size of a cow. However, they are not hastily exterminated, as ropes mad...

The recipes for her potions have been passed down through generations, having restored many a brave warrior.

Only the gods know what magic keeps these old bones together and shooting so accurately with a bow.

If you ever wonder 'Why burn corpses?' - I suggest you look into his kind eyes.

The younger brother of Oltrodor could not come to terms with his brother's greatness. He found his own path to power and...