Kaelen Duskshard

Once a village blacksmith at The Edge of The World, Kaelen took up arms when creatures from the outer rifts destroyed his home. Two decades later, he wears runes etched into hide armor and carries a javelin that always returns to his hand. His longsword, forged from a fallen star, burns faintly in the dark and has power against those from the outer rifts. Cynical, funny, and fiercely loyal, Kaelen takes command when Jamal cannot—and none question it. Humble beginnings, Kaelen Duskshard was newly appointed village blacksmith geting his first forge after leaving his apprenticeship with his family. He found a quiet forge near the edge of the known world. This is where strange metals were brought from adventurers. That ended two decades ago, when creatures From Beyond the outer rift tore through his home. Leaving only cinders and the sound of steel screaming in the night. He hasn’t spoken much about that day since. Now, Kaelen serves as the Embeth Hunters’ shield and strategist—a hard-eyed realist with a dry wit and a blacksmith’s practical mind. His armor, stitched from the hides of beasts few live to describe, tells a long story in faded scrimshaw runes. He keeps a javelin of returning at his side for game too large to face up close, but it’s the longsword forged from a meteorite—the “sparkblade,” as he calls it—that speaks for him when words fail. When Jamal is away, Kaelen steps into command with the grim steadiness of a man who’s lost enough to know what he’s protecting. The others might chase omens and riddles, but Kaelen keeps his eyes On the Trail ahead—and the threats waiting just beyond it.

Relationship Highlights: With Jamal Visser : Tested and trusted through fire and snow. With Senvan: Finds comfort in Senvan’s presence, though he’d never call it that. With Tharka: Wordless comrades in battle—Kaelen holds the line, Tharka breaks it.

Jamal & Kaelen

A winter patrol in the northern passes had gone wrong—whiteout conditions, a missing scout, and tempers fraying. Kaelen was ready to turn back, convinced the trail was lost. Jamal stood firm. “We press on,” Jamal said. “The wind’s lying. The tracks haven’t turned.” Kaelen spat into the snow. “You going to bet a life on a guess?” Jamal didn’t flinch. “Yes.” The silence between them stretched. Then Kaelen shook his head, pulled his cloak tighter, and trudged forward. Later, when they found the scout—frostbitten but alive—Kaelen said nothing. But that night by the fire, he laid his javelin across Jamal’s boots. “A hunter earns a name. You earned that one today.”

Kaelen & Senvan- Lullaby at Dusk

Kaelen was sharpening his javelin, lost in the scrape and spark, when he noticed Senvan humming. The priest sat a short distance away, eyes closed, hands folded around a piece of driftwood he had carved into a twisted spiral. “Creeping me out again, Hollowmere,” Kaelen muttered, not looking up. “The forest listens better at dusk,” Senvan replied softly. “Even to old wounds.” Kaelen chuckled without humor. “Got a spell to forget twenty years of ash and bone?” “No,” Senvan said. “But sometimes remembering them in the right way softens the edge.” There was a pause. The fire crackled. Then, very faintly, Kaelen’s sharpening slowed. And the priest’s song continued—soft, old, and meant not for Kaelen, but heard all the same.