Garlak Fover
the Unbroken
Once a proud forager of the surface, Garlak was shaped by strength and tragedy. Towering even among the Talath, his unmatched endurance and raw power made him a legend among the young—and a cautionary tale among the old. After a disastrous expedition cost a comrade’s life, he vanished into silence. Now a lone hauler and smuggler, he walks the underworld burdened by his past, a giant whose word is as firm as his grip.
“The mountain carved him strong. The darkness carved him silent.”
The Weight of a Name
In the depths of the Empire, where the veins of stone twist endlessly and light is a memory more than a fact, stories carry weight. Not the kind of weight that floats in taverns, embroidered with exaggeration, but the quiet kind—told in whispers, passed between mouths that rarely speak, and always with a certain reverence. One of these stories walks on two legs and wears no armor but his own flesh. His name is Garlak. He does not ask for attention. He does not speak of his past. But when he enters a tunnel with a burden on his back, people make way.
For those who know of him, Garlak is not just a man—he’s a symbol of endurance, of loss, of an oath unspoken but carried all the same. For those who have worked beside him, he is a force of nature, implacable and steady. For those who have heard only the rumors, he is a myth. Myths have origins, and Garlak’s began in the bitter wind of the world above.
Origins in the Lightless Sky
Garlak was born into a Talath enclave carved into the bones of a long-dead mountain. Like most of his people, he grew up in shadow—nourished by fungus and grit, shaped by stone and silence. But from a young age, Garlak was too much—too tall, too dense, too quiet, too intense. Even among the Talath, known for their bulk and resilience, he stood out.
By the time he could lift a hammer, he had already broken two. His hands, powerful and calloused, never quite mastered the art of gentleness. Tools snapped in his grip, hinges buckled under his fingers, delicate work became ruined with a single misstep of pressure. He was never malicious—just unaware of his strength, like a river doesn’t know how to be soft.
The elders watched him with caution. The youth followed him with awe.
Where others hesitated, Garlak stepped forward. Where others calculated, he acted. It wasn’t pride. It was instinct. He simply believed that he could—lift more, endure more, push further. And that belief was contagious. The other young Talath began to emulate him. They competed, trained, followed his rhythm.
And so, when the time came to assign roles, Garlak joined the ranks of the Lumbreros—foragers and scouts who ventured to the surface, risking exposure and madness to bring back vital resources: wood, dried moss, rare ore, bones from the surface creatures. Few volunteered for the task. Fewer survived it, but Garlak took to it like a blade to whetstone.
The Surface and the Shaping
The Mistake
It was inevitable that Garlak would one day lead his own expedition. The elders resisted, but the young trusted him. He had proven himself again and again. And when whispers of a forgotten route surfaced—one that promised untouched timber and unspoiled ruins—Garlak volunteered to scout it. He picked his team. He charted the maps. He led them out with confidence.
What happened out there is still unclear. Some say it was a cave-in caused by unstable ground. Others blame something older, something awake beneath the surface. Some survivors speak of shadowy figures moving in impossible silence. But when they returned, broken and silent, they were fewer than they had been.
One name was missing. One friend was gone.
No one pointed fingers. No one blamed Garlak. But he blamed himself.
He did not weep. He did not explain. He simply handed back his axe to the quartermaster, gathered his pack, and walked away from the forge-cities. Away from the lumbreros. Away from the youth who had looked up to him.
He walked into silence.
A Ghost With a Spine of Steel
Legacy Without Glory
Final Words
Characters
Garlak
Trista
Willow
