Artyom

It was said that the Warden's cold had seeped into their eggs, infected flesh and bone until warped incarnations of winter and death had hatched into an equally unforgiving world. Artyom had never been quite right, hissing and snapping like a wild thing at any that approach him without caution or strength.

"Plague knows strength... we know survival... we know to endure... I am the thing that hunts in the bitter nights. I acknowledge no master."

Many called him a monster, but the title only brought sharp laughter to his mouth. Killer, murderer, slayer... all titles he would accept without protest, but monster? No, his only companion, his dear twin sister, was more a monster than him. He hunted as any good predator should, but his sister... She did not fathom fear, or heart break... Or loss...