LORE & BACKGROUND

Ser Calric, the younger of Lord Aethelric’s bastard sons, was as sharp as his blade and twice as cruel. Where his brother Rauk was a wall, Calric was a flickering flame, fast, erratic, and impossible to predict. Draped in a wolf-helm and clad in knight’s steel, he carved through deserters and rebels with joyous precision, laughing as he killed.

During Calden’s final siege, he leapt across broken battlements, his curved greatsword gleaming as it traced arcs of blood through the smoke. To fight him was to chase a shadow. He died mid-laugh, blade in hand, still spinning through the ruins of war.

The curse has twisted him, but not slowed him. Now, Calric moves with manic fluidity, his limbs too long, his balance unnatural. He twirls around his own greatsword as though it were part of a gruesome performance, perching on its edge mid-battle, bounding from its curve in impossible feats of motion. His grin never fades, even in undeath.

Calric is speed and spectacle incarnate, a deadly phantom of the battlefield. Where others charge or endure, he slips through the cracks, and strikes where it hurts most.

Ser Calric the Quick | Calden Keep

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