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.

He has seen much in his lifetime. Thus, he does not rush into attack, preferring to 'play defensively'.'

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

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

In the world of the undead, such as he might be called doctors. After all, they too bring back to life. Well, almost.

In the empty eye sockets of this creature, one can see the experience of dozens of generations. Though not everyone mana...

Lost in ancient crypts, this adventurer will gladly join any party for the right price. Any party at all.