Backstory: Tovak was raised in the scrub-brushed hills near the Emerald Gulch north of Bazzoxan—far enough to avoid the city’s blood-soaked vigilance, but close enough to feel the chill of its shadow. He lived and served at a small Luxon shrine known as Lantern Rest, a place where souls were tended to in quiet reverence, far from the noise of war. There, Tovak dug graves by hand, prepared the dead for burial, and lit the lanterns that marked the passing of life into light.
He never underwent consecution. While his peers studied the rebirth cycle and the mysteries of the beacons, Tovak felt called to the pause between lives. He became the shrine’s gravedigger, a title he held with quiet pride. His rituals were simple but deeply personal: a soft song, a stone beneath the tongue, a final moment of stillness before the earth closed.
During a burial procession near the Emerald Gulch, a rockslide unearthed a battered shield - cracked, scorched, and etched with faint polyhedral glyphs. The others dismissed it, but Tovak kept it, naming it the Echoplate. It reminded him of the beacons, though its purpose remains unknown. He now plants it in the soil beside the fallen as part of his rites. Not magical, not divine, just right.
Lately, though, that peace has frayed. The quiet has changed. His prayers feel heavy. The dead settle slower in the soil. So he has come to Jigow—ostensibly for the festival, but truthfully, to listen, to watch, to bury what must be buried.
If the Light of Rebirth stirs, so must he.
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Name: Tovak
Age: 45
Race: Tortle
Class: Cleric (Grave Domain)
Background: Acolyte (Luxonborn)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Backstory:
Tovak was raised in the scrub-brushed hills near the Emerald Gulch north of Bazzoxan—far enough to avoid the city’s blood-soaked vigilance, but close enough to feel the chill of its shadow. He lived and served at a small Luxon shrine known as Lantern Rest, a place where souls were tended to in quiet reverence, far from the noise of war. There, Tovak dug graves by hand, prepared the dead for burial, and lit the lanterns that marked the passing of life into light.
He never underwent consecution. While his peers studied the rebirth cycle and the mysteries of the beacons, Tovak felt called to the pause between lives. He became the shrine’s gravedigger, a title he held with quiet pride. His rituals were simple but deeply personal: a soft song, a stone beneath the tongue, a final moment of stillness before the earth closed.
During a burial procession near the Emerald Gulch, a rockslide unearthed a battered shield - cracked, scorched, and etched with faint polyhedral glyphs. The others dismissed it, but Tovak kept it, naming it the Echoplate. It reminded him of the beacons, though its purpose remains unknown. He now plants it in the soil beside the fallen as part of his rites. Not magical, not divine, just right.
Lately, though, that peace has frayed. The quiet has changed. His prayers feel heavy. The dead settle slower in the soil. So he has come to Jigow—ostensibly for the festival, but truthfully, to listen, to watch, to bury what must be buried.
If the Light of Rebirth stirs, so must he.