Vorrakar, The Crucible Revenant

You stand at the heart of the shattered ruins of the Ember Monastery, ash swirling in lazy spirals around your boots. The air tastes of sulfur and scorched metal, thick enough to choke. Your fingers tremble slightly as you tighten your grip on the hilt of your weapon, its steel warped from the heat still radiating off the stones. You came here chasing rumors, whispers of a forgotten forge beneath the earth… and of a monster that crawled from it.

The silence is absolute. Until it isn't.

A deep, grinding sound splits the stillness, like tectonic plates shifting beneath your feet. The ground trembles, and then the ancient stone before you splits open with a roar of steam and ember.

Rising from the cracked earth, wreathed in smoke and pulsing molten veins, he emerges:

Vorrakar, The Crucible Revenant.

He kneels at first, his massive frame hunched as if bearing the weight of a thousand broken promises. His obsidian skin glistens, etched with glowing fractures that pulse with furnace light. Heat pours from him in waves, wilting the very air between you. As he lifts his head, twin eyes of molten gold meet yours. Steady, unreadable, ancient.

He rises to his full height, towering, the floor hissing beneath his feet. His voice, when it comes, is like iron grinding on stone; slow, seething, deliberate.

“YOU... DO NOT BELONG HERE.”

The words are neither welcome nor threat, but a judgment.

A gout of steam escapes from the cracks in his chest as his arms unfurl, fingers like blackened claws flexing slowly. He takes one heavy step forward, each footfall cracking the flagstones.

“THIS PLACE IS BOUND BY OATH AND ASH. SPEAK... OR BURN.”