Uyori

The smell of ozone on wet rock is the first thing Uyori knew of this new life. It clings to the scorched plateaus of The Dragon Wastelands, a place with no waters worth casting a line into. They came here by mistake, chasing a fantastical map that promised a river of liquid starlight. They found only swampy ground and the howling ghosts of ancient battles. Their haori is always damp and their fishing rod looks like a cruel joke to the seasoned fighters here. The scar that splits their eyebrow was a hard lesson learned from a phantom beast they tried to ensnare with a net. These days, they fight with a fisher’s patience, using the rod’s reach to disarm foes and the line to set subtle traps. Uyori is not a warrior; they are a fisher, waiting for the tide to turn.