Nazrika Uzzfang hails from the outer fringes of the Serpent Marshes, born among the reed-bound nests of the Verdscale tribe. From a young age, she was marked as different—speaking to roots, calming beasts with a glance, and coaxing blooms from mud with a whisper. The elders called her gifted, chosen by the marsh itself. But when a sacred grove was mysteriously consumed by rot, and Nazrika emerged the only survivor, the tribe grew wary. Some called it fate. Others called it curse. Unwelcome in her own home, Nazrika wandered into the world of stone and sky. She became a druid not by tradition, but by instinct—shaping bark and fang, guiding storms and serpents with the same quiet authority she once used to soothe her kin. Her silver tongue, uncommon among her kind, gained her allies in unlikely places. She speaks softly, but her persuasion carries weight like a coiled tail ready to strike. Now she seeks the forgotten—lost ruins buried in vine and dust, whispers of ancient druidic circles sealed beneath the earth. She claims it’s curiosity. But sometimes, when the wind is still, she mutters names no one else remembers. Something from that grove still calls to her.