Seven

A master of discretion and assassination, Seven is the isle's solution to all the dishonest associates who believe staying on Sornieth's soil will keep them safe. While the Woven Ones are confined to their island by a curse, a hatchling born on the mainland has no such limitations.

Hatchlings from the mainland end up on the isle for many reasons. In Seven's case, his path to the island was preordained. A juvenile among many others born flightless by design, Unnamed except for the number carved into the palm of their hands in ink and spells. Born to be tallied and measured by weight and meat content; wares in the Trading Post that one must dig deep to find.

It was his combativity that spared his life. Every step of the way he fought with everything he had and then some. It caused little more than a ruckus, but it made The Heart raise an eye from her abacus and parchment.

In the end, she brought him into her hut rather than the tents of The Camp. Offered him a blanket, food, and a knife. She taught him to speak, read, and eventually, how to fight with more than just his claws and fangs.

Like a fish to water, he took up spears, swords, daggers, and staves like it was meant to be. Throwing knives, crossbows, and axes came later, to combat those he could not pursue in the air.

In total, he mastered seven. That was something to be proud of. Something to replace the meaning of the numbers on his palm.

Seven is more than just a number to be counted and discarded.









other lore to be added


- Wings are more cape-like than actual wings (can't fly, can glide)
- Spinal enhancement <3
- "With enough coin, a life can be overruled."