Tenrof
A rare sight to see, and ever the more mysterious with each appearance, the entity known only as Tenrof wanders the vast world, its purpose, motives, and identity shrouded in black, like itself. Those whom have the privilege, or the misfortune to encounter this strange ghost have only scattered recollections and tales.
Some have sought this enshrouded entity in search of its truth, or find it easy coin for extermination.
Those people are oft never seen again. And even if so, none remain the same. Or sane.
Appearance
Even to a trained tracker's eye, or a practiced mage's sight, this blackened ghost appears no more than a flickering, shadowy image even on a bright sunny day. Unable to be tracked by magic, or even being trailed, this enigmatic specter comes and goes in the forests and mountainous areas of the entire continent, its purpose and intentions only heard of from uncertain ears. Never staying too long to converse, and almost immediately fleeing from those who seek him. But bare-handed accounts tell of a person in a strange hat and coat, colored blacker than night itself. A genuine shadow of a human, and much taller than the species' most physically able members. The hat appears lopsided, obscuring his right eye from view, yet the other appears to be nothing more than a eerie hole, a window into a conscious within.
The clothing, they say, feels like a slippery, misty, solid leather. An odd and strange blend of sensations that feel like the hands of a ghost gripping theirs. Yet the Shadow's hands themselves feel like rock, possessing a mass that is also like stone. Yet it is not rock, nor stone. All the witnesses claim the same thing - it is definitely not from this world.
It is said to speak referring to itself as a 'he', though whether it is actually a male is up for question. The voice is a gravelly baritone, but if one listened hard enough, they would hear... something. A sound unlike any they have heard in the undertones of its speech, like a stirring abyss.
However, while those whom have actually witnessed this entity in person are rare enough, there exist those rarer still, those whom had the unfortunate experience of witnessing this... Shadow in full. Such individuals only mumble of a warped eclipse, a scar upon the Abyss itself, from which a singular, glowing hole looks on.
The clothing, they say, feels like a slippery, misty, solid leather. An odd and strange blend of sensations that feel like the hands of a ghost gripping theirs. Yet the Shadow's hands themselves feel like rock, possessing a mass that is also like stone. Yet it is not rock, nor stone. All the witnesses claim the same thing - it is definitely not from this world.
It is said to speak referring to itself as a 'he', though whether it is actually a male is up for question. The voice is a gravelly baritone, but if one listened hard enough, they would hear... something. A sound unlike any they have heard in the undertones of its speech, like a stirring abyss.
However, while those whom have actually witnessed this entity in person are rare enough, there exist those rarer still, those whom had the unfortunate experience of witnessing this... Shadow in full. Such individuals only mumble of a warped eclipse, a scar upon the Abyss itself, from which a singular, glowing hole looks on.
After the events unfolded with the advent - and fall - of the Dragon God Drakormir, the Shadow has been cursed out of the material realm entirely, unable to interact with it barring entities he has... influenced in his long tenure upon the world. Even the spiritual world can barely register this presence - a fleeting ghost most ethereal, a fraction of a fraction.
A result of himself enforcing his own influence into the world, he has paid a very heavy price, one that cannot be reversed without a sacrifice of equal measure. To the four he has released upon the world, he can appear as a voice. A whisper. Or perhaps a black mist that swirls and pulses with a beat most alien. None else can hear it, and for those whom possess a second sight, catching even a glimpse is a herculean feat.
However, he is aware of a potential way to already reverse the condition. But it lies with the fate of his newest and youngest ally. Only Time will tell if it can be worked in his favor. Even worse, if the Herald can allow the existence of such an entity to continue in the physical world at all...
A result of himself enforcing his own influence into the world, he has paid a very heavy price, one that cannot be reversed without a sacrifice of equal measure. To the four he has released upon the world, he can appear as a voice. A whisper. Or perhaps a black mist that swirls and pulses with a beat most alien. None else can hear it, and for those whom possess a second sight, catching even a glimpse is a herculean feat.
However, he is aware of a potential way to already reverse the condition. But it lies with the fate of his newest and youngest ally. Only Time will tell if it can be worked in his favor. Even worse, if the Herald can allow the existence of such an entity to continue in the physical world at all...
Skills and Abilities
Many indeed have gone to face this Shadow in combat, for easy coin or to unravel its mysteries.
None returned to tell the tale coherently. Some never returned at all.
The few who could, took the secrets to their graves.
But there are certain areas which bear the tell-tale scars of battle, devastated acres of forest that seem entirely non-magical in nature. Curiouser still, those whom are attuned with the world and its flow say the very nature of this place seems distorted, as if one had bent, twisted, weaponized the very reality within the area. And most tell-tale of all, traces of a black mist are often present in such areas, traces that witnesses claim to possess the exact same nature of the Shadow itself.
None returned to tell the tale coherently. Some never returned at all.
The few who could, took the secrets to their graves.
But there are certain areas which bear the tell-tale scars of battle, devastated acres of forest that seem entirely non-magical in nature. Curiouser still, those whom are attuned with the world and its flow say the very nature of this place seems distorted, as if one had bent, twisted, weaponized the very reality within the area. And most tell-tale of all, traces of a black mist are often present in such areas, traces that witnesses claim to possess the exact same nature of the Shadow itself.
Personality
From what scant witnesses could be found, this Shadow possesses an innocent curiosity about the world, and such witnesses are commonly farmers, travelers, gypsies, and the occasional hut-dweller. Basically, those whom live in isolated spaces, apart from the world, or wander much like this shadow have a chance of encountering it. They say it speaks in monotone, yet seems well-spoken. It sometimes even tries a few strips of clothing or jewelry upon itself, only to return it with disinterest, if the gypsies are to be believed.
It asks questions about the witnesses' lifestyle, even prodding for a demonstration should it show the interest. It backs down should its questions prove too invasive, suggesting it has knowledge of ethics and manners. It even shows mannerism and behavior that show it to be well-versed in society, almost fooling its beholders into believing it is a human, just abnormal from its folk.
Of course, almost.
The cracks show in its objective view of the world. Its questions also prod at the nature of the witnesses' lives, asking the value in their existence, as if it were curious about how they interpret their lives. Some answer, others do not. Then the Shadow, as if satisfied, disappears in a invisible gust of wind, fading away into nothing. Only traces of its presence remain, black misty echoes.
It asks questions about the witnesses' lifestyle, even prodding for a demonstration should it show the interest. It backs down should its questions prove too invasive, suggesting it has knowledge of ethics and manners. It even shows mannerism and behavior that show it to be well-versed in society, almost fooling its beholders into believing it is a human, just abnormal from its folk.
Of course, almost.
The cracks show in its objective view of the world. Its questions also prod at the nature of the witnesses' lives, asking the value in their existence, as if it were curious about how they interpret their lives. Some answer, others do not. Then the Shadow, as if satisfied, disappears in a invisible gust of wind, fading away into nothing. Only traces of its presence remain, black misty echoes.