Cade'Ra Felhope

A courageous protector of people and jungle. A preserver of past, present, and future. Champion of the people.

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Fate Unknown

There is great evil trapped within the roots that tie worlds together, and the aura of that place reminded Cade'Ra of the moment that changed his life forever. Good and evil, celestial and fiendish, a balance to the way of things found only in his dreams. Found in the dream in which Zelia first spoke to him, and in all that followed. There are many forces seeking to use these lands for their own plans. Force vying towards unknowable ends, towards fates known and paths still to be laid. So, when Cade'Ra's new companions - the ones he'd just saved from the monstrosity stalking the jungles near Sa-Owu - mentioned speaking to the Fates themselves, he jumped at the chance.   Clarity is good. Knowing the trail you walk leads to safer, faster travel. Cade'Ra should've known there is benefit to moving in the dark, unseen by the eyes that watch the world. He had been predator for years, yet within the World Tree he felt once again like prey. But, path laid, Cade'Ra helped guide his companions through Irminsul, past Nar, the Unnamed Serpent trapped within the roots, through parley with a mangy messenger to Gods, and deep within the tree to the Fates themselves. They were three evils personified as such - their whimsy defining the future and shaping paths without care.   A question asked, a truth sealed. In his desperate desire for answers he sealed a journey for himself. The Umbral Lords are key to removing the silence of the Gods from this land - there could have been an easier way had he taken the time to plan. Now there was only the one. The rest, in his arrogance to derive quick ends in lieu of hard work, was a blur. A weapon of the Gods can only be paused. An ancient, evil aberration rests by the weapons side. A prophecy of some New Shadow - old ally and new foe to his companions - is both sealed yet teeming with possibility and unknown origin. The blight of the jungle could be cured by killing some creature, Lantana. This last one he remembered well as it was concern of the most competent of his new friends, Parkeh the Bear Warrior and her bear warrior, Marzipan. Then the Fates offered a glimpse into his own future. He would have none of it. Though his questions may have had undue consequence, Cade'Ra snapped to lucidity just in time to preserve some free will. His new companions were not all so discerning. The Fates shaped their journeys, difficult trials to face - to slay. As they now trek to Kema together, to save the sister of his lady Zelia, Cade cannot help but wonder how he'll end up further entwined in the roots that so grip this world.

The Path of Burning Vines

Cade'Ra, who now stalks the jungle, was born among brick and bronze, not vines and fangs. Wave’s End was the first home he knew. He was dropped half-dead on temple steps, a newborn with golden eyes and scaled arms. His survival was a miracle, contrast to its stone halls echoing with sermons to absent gods.   While raised in quiet comfort it became clear Cade’Ra desired a more active life. He made fast friends of other children - low and high born alike - and excelled in all his studies. As a boy with a sharp, curious mind, Cade’Ra read constantly. His deep interest in the true pantheon, magic, and history of the world further north kept his nose in books, while his desire to serve well kept him in daily martial lessons. As the years passed, Cade’Ra and his childhood friends - Olene and Garlin - spent their days working and planning, their greatest desire to explore the world outside Wave's End. And so, at twenty, they all took work guarding caravans heading into the jungle reaches of the Soulcleft Marches. The pay was decent. The life a bit routine. But the path was known, safe - until it wasn’t.   Four years later his caravan was ambushed deep in vine-choked ruins. Blood soaked the moss. Screams echoed through the trees. The last thing Cade'Ra remembers is the slow, wet sound of something too large to be human moving through the greenery.   He should have died. Instead, he dreamed.   “The gods are not silent, only listening,” whispered the figure—an ephemeral being in a long, white, flowing dress. “You were not made for marble and prayer. You were born to walk the untamed border where shadow bleeds into soul. Rise, golden warrior, and follow the path of burning vines.”   When Cade'Ra awoke, he was beneath a canopy of stars, half-wrapped in poultice and herbs, cared for by some tribe deep in the jungle. They had found him clinging to life, the dead littered around him. They called themselves the Virrathi, and the elder—Ha’Loq, a weathered, ancient saurian with eyes like smoke—knew what he was. “You are one of us,” the elder rasped. “Just not yet.”   From them, Cade'Ra learned the old ways—how to read the stars through the jungle mist, how to channel the blood memory of his people to enhance his body, shift his form, grow claws as hard as stone or teeth as sharp as blades. The jungle tested him. The Virrathi honed him. And occasionally, in the night, the celestial voice returned.   “What was left behind must be remembered. What was broken must be reforged.”   “You will not save the jungle. But you will become its fire, its blade, its peace.”   For the next 13 years, Cade'Ra’s continual vision quest led him to cursed ruins, blighted rivers, and villages terrorized by twisted beasts of fell shadow and ill intent - outsiders, undead, and all manner of evil. And so, where he could, he became a guardian, the claws of calm fury. His back bore the marks of fire and blood. His claws had torn through horrors not found in any book. His name was whispered by villagers who never saw him, but found themselves saved by his grit and steel. And all the while, the dreams grew more vivid.   “You are not only a weapon,” the angel whispered. “You are a window. Through you, the land remembers itself.”   Now Cade'Ra walks both worlds. He wears the bones of the jungle and carries the history of the north. He is called to cleanse, not with fire alone, but with remembrance—of what was lost, what must return, and what must be protected at all costs.

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