A Remnant is not a being born in the way mortals are, but rather forged and reshaped within the harrowing crucible of utter despair. This abyss is not simply an emotional state, but a realm where hope is devoured and every shred of what once constituted a soul is systematically stripped away. Within this chasm, despair gnaws relentlessly at the core of one’s existence, until only emptiness remains. Remnants are those who have been completely divested of their names, their cherished memories, and even the smallest fragments of individuality. Nothing is left but a hollow shell—a lifeless vessel, condemned by divine judgment. It is said the gods themselves impose this punishment upon those who have surrendered their will or essence to the all-consuming darkness. For these individuals, all markers of identity are erased, and they become cursed to wander endlessly through the mortal world. With no anchor, no respite, and no clear purpose, Remnants are perpetually haunted by the relentless echoes of what they might have been, tormented by fleeting fragments of their lost selves.

The transformation into a Remnant is both the final consequence and a profound contradiction. As their sense of self erodes, so too does their desire to continue living. Yet, the cruel paradox lies in their inability to die; death itself, the final release, is forever denied to them. Theirs is an existence stretched across the unyielding landscape of eternity—a punishment with no conclusion, where the passing of time grows heavier, more oppressive, with every step they take. In this shattered state, Remnants persist as ethereal wraiths, their forms insubstantial and cloaked in shadows that seem to bleed sorrow. The void from which they emerged distorts their appearance, warping them into beings that bear little resemblance to the persons they once were. Their presence is defined by an unsettling stillness, as though the very air mourns their passing.

Drawn ever onward by a compulsion they cannot name, Remnants traverse barren wastes, abandoned ruins, and the dim recesses of civilization’s forgotten places. Wherever they pass, a chilling aura precedes and lingers after them. The temperature drops, the light dims, and a faint, sorrowful gloom blankets the surroundings. According to legend, every step a Remnant takes sends ripples through the very fabric of reality, as if their lost identities leave an indelible mark on the world itself. These ripples manifest as haunting, melancholic melodies—soundless to most, but powerfully evocative to those attuned to sorrow. Such echoes stir in the hearts of wanderers and the unlucky few who stumble across a Remnant’s path, filling them with dreams tinged by longing and loss. The presence of a Remnant is inescapable, their sorrow lingering long after their departure like the fading notes of a requiem.

To suffer the fate of transformation into a Remnant, an individual must meet a strict set of interlocking conditions, each one compounding the other to bring about this tragic state. First, the person must lose every reason to persist—their ambitions, ties to others, and any emotional anchors must be lost beyond recovery. Second, there must be a deliberate, conscious rejection of the self: a casting off and destruction of all that once defined them. Third, a traumatic event—catastrophic in its intensity—must shatter their psyche, plunging them into a downward spiral from which there is no hope of return. And finally, they must arrive at a place so bleak that even the prospect of death itself loses all meaning. Only when all these conditions converge simultaneously does the transformation begin, a process that is as agonizing as it is inevitable. The change is gradual, creeping over the soul until the last vestiges of hope and individually are gone.

The origins and punishment of the Remnants are traced back to two deities, each playing a distinct role in the creation and continued suffering of this race.

• God of Destruction: Where the destruction of oneself is by hand of despair, and the active self-like harm of one’s own mind and memories by fear of loss. Willingly throwing away all that they are and once were. In acts of selfish longing, self-hate, eternal depression, and despair.

• God of Dusk and Death: By rejection of Death itself in face of a meaningless life and a meaningless end. By either rejecting death of a loved one or the death for oneself. 

Characteristics

Remnants are recognized by their haunting, nearly spectral appearance—a wavering, broken silhouette that seems only partially present in the world. Their forms flicker and shift, as though they are caught between two realities. Within these shadows, one might glimpse fleeting echoes of the beings they once were; a familiar gesture, a half-remembered expression, or the trace of an emotion thought long lost. Yet, these glimpses are rare and fleeting, for most who encounter a Remnant perceive only a void, an emptiness from which all light and hope recoil. Their aura is heavy with a somber, reflective melancholy. They rarely utter words, and when they do, their speech is fractured, incomplete—fragments of stories and destinies that remain forever unresolved. The silence around them is potent, laden with the unbearable weight of unspoken regrets and the cost of surrendering to despair.

Yet, despite the sorrow and punishment that define their existence, there is a strange, paradoxical beauty to the Remnants. They embody not only the price of giving in to despair, but also an enduring resilience. Though they are forever burdened by the memories they cannot fully recall, and the lifetimes they have forgotten, they continue to wander without rest. Their passage weaves an intricate, unending tapestry of sorrow and memory through the ages—a silent warning and a mournful dirge for all who dare contemplate their fate. The Remnants serve as a somber reminder of the dangers of despair, and a testament to the endurance of the soul, even when stripped of all that once defined it.

Natural Abilities

• Regeneration