Kratakahn Drifter

A Kratakahn Drifter is no tradesman—they're a survivor shaped by the unforgiving Couragian Grasslands. Their reward isn't coin but freedom, safety, and the secrets the land yields to those who endure it. Acting as guides, they navigate merchant caravans, nobles, and scholars across the vast, perilous plains, earning goods more useful than gold: fine tools, rare supplies, and favors that open city doors. As hunters, they live off the beasts they track, trading pelts, antlers, and venom for what they can't scavenge or craft. The boldest among them delve into ancient ruins, risking death for forgotten treasure and priceless secrets. Their true currency is knowledge—knowing where to go, when to move, and what others will pay to learn.

A Kratakahn Drifter has no place in the structured order of Novendragos, yet they are indispensable. They guide travelers through the deadly steppes of Kratakahn, where no map holds sway and only their knowledge ensures survival. As hunters and gatherers, they bring back what cities cannot create—monster hides, rare herbs, and wild reagents that fuel both alchemy and ambition. They are the living memory of lost empires and fallen powers, holding truths that never made it into books. Existing on the margins, Drifters challenge the assumption that civilization owns progress, proving instead that freedom, wisdom, and strength still roam the wild.

To the people of the Couragian Grasslands, a Kratakahn Drifter embodies the highest ideal: freedom without allegiance. They are respected not because of formal titles or inherited status, but because they have chosen the hardest path—one of solitude, survival, and self-reliance. Among the clans, the Drifter is revered as the "Unbound," one who follows no chieftain and heeds only the rhythms of the land. Their wisdom, drawn from the oldest traditions and the wild itself, grants them a near-mythic aura. Yet, that same independence keeps them at a distance. They are welcomed as allies, valued as guides, but never fully embraced. In contrast, the cities of the south see Drifters as dangerous relics—uncultured, unpredictable, and threatening to the fragile order of the state. To urban minds, they are vagabonds without decency or purpose. Between two worlds, the Drifter walks alone: exalted in the wild, reviled in civilization, and bound only to the wind.

A Kratakahn Drifter carries no excess. Their kit is survival distilled—light enough to move swiftly, rugged enough to face the wilds, and trusted as deeply as a friend. The essentials form what is known as a Plainstrider’s Pack: a handmade ironwood steppe-bow, a broad skinning knife, a quiver of eagle-fletched arrows, and rope woven from golden grass. Their bedroll is stitched fur, their cloak heavy and warm, often from a plains-bear. Flint and tinder-fungus light their fires; water is carried in pitch-sealed gourds. Star-charts, etched into tharnox bone, guide them by the moons and constellations of Novendragos.

Veterans elevate this kit to legend. A First Spear may carry a lurvask-sinew bow or a knife of rare drakemetal—unbreakable, ever-sharp. Wind-chimes whisper the secrets of the plains, reading storm and stampede. Their herbal pouch holds poisons, cures, and antidotes alike. Armor made from beasts like the Hushback Craw offers protection without burden. A Drifter’s kit is their home, their defense, and their legacy.

The life of a Kratakahn Drifter is freedom paid for in blood. Each day is a negotiation with a land that offers no mercy—where the wind changes moods in minutes, and the grass can swallow a person whole. The Couragian Grasslands are as treacherous as they are beautiful: directionless, disorienting, and laced with lingering leyline scars from the Dragonfall Crisis. A single misstep can mean vanishing into a place where compasses spin and water flows the wrong way.

Predators lurk in the tall grass. Chief among them is the crowned lurvask, a cunning, pack-hunting apex beast whose presence often spells death. Even the insect swarms of dusk aren’t just a nuisance—they draw worse things in their wake. And while the land is brutal, people may be worse. Clan rivalries turn sacred ground into ambush sites. The Drakemetal Vanguard treats Drifters as threats. And Xylos, the amethyst Dragon Overlord, toys with fate itself—his “visions” often lead straight into traps.