NAME: Omari, Voice of the Forgotten
PRONOUNS: He/Him
MAGE CLASS: Pactbreaker
LINEAGE: Human (Caucasian)
SUBTYPE: Mirror-Thief Warden
ERA PLACEMENT: 2237 AD, Age of Ash and Echo
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In the salt-choked ruins of Kordaan’s southern ridge, where the last wind-stalkers still whisper prayers into cracked horns, the name Omari rides the silence like ash in flame-worn air.

He was born under a blood-veined moon, in a place whose name only ancestors recall — if they dare. His people were oath-carvers, vow-weavers, keepers of the deep pacts struck before the Hollowing, and it was said that in their tongues, silence held more truth than speech. But Omari was the one who spoke, even when he shouldn’t. Especially then.

He was a child of contradiction — loyal, but lawless; tender, yet unbending. His black hair curled like burnt rope around hazel eyes that shimmered with knowing and grief. When the covenant temples burned — betrayed from within by those who sold oaths like coin — Omari did not run. He stayed. He listened. And when the wind called the names of the fallen, he answered.

They say the Pactbreaker spark awoke in him then, born of rupture. A chain shattered, but not discarded — repurposed. Omari binds not to old pacts, but to those the world forgets: the speechless, the hunted, the broken-voiced. His relic is a Mirror-Ward, cracked and rag-bound, which hangs across his back like a promise half-kept. It does not reflect the bearer — it remembers those they failed. In combat, it fragments reality, displacing his presence like a ghost’s echo. To strike him is to wound what he once was — or what he might yet become.

But Omari is more than a specter. He is feral in motion, a creature raised among ridge-wolves and ruin-thieves. His path is not paved — it is tracked. He moves alone, but is never truly solitary. Even now, beasts still trail him from the outer dark, sensing in him a kinship, a memory, a leader who has never commanded — only kept watch.

Though he walks in shadow, he is not consumed by it. He will steal a relic to protect a child. He will trick a warlord to spare a village. He will break your oath if it is cruel — and then swear his own in silence.

And still, the voices call to him. Not gods. Not kings. The forgotten. The abandoned. The unseen.

Omari listens.

And he answers.