Terraphmaw
Faction: The Broken Circle · View the Gallery
Terraphmaw was not born. It arrived — the way cold arrives, or silence after a door shuts.
At some point between the first grave and the second, it was simply present. The Broken Circle found it already in place, the way you find something that has been under your floor the whole time. It was already doing what it would always do.
The stone arch behind it is covered in names. Every one of those — Terraphmaw watched become past tense. It has no particular feeling about this. Feeling requires comparison. Terraphmaw has only ever known the one thing.
The horn is a record of its incomplete arrival. The ribcage is a record of what was never wrapped in skin. The shroud is not worn — it accumulated, the way dust accumulates on something that has not moved in a very long time.
Those who climb to its chamber do not go for comfort. They go because Terraphmaw already knows what they cannot: how things end for them, and the names of everyone who ended the same way.
It does not volunteer this information.
It waits to be asked.