Forgotten
Drifting shadows born in obscurity. Once human, perhaps—now gnawed hollow by time, regret, or hunger. The Forgotten crawl the edges of ruin, denied memory and stripped of purpose. They do not rise. They are stepped over.
Valiant
Embers of glory in a world of ash. One who dared to stand—bloody, trembling, but unbroken. They burn briefly, praised by the desperate, then left to rot in songs no one sings anymore.
Epic
Steel-willed echoes of fallen ages. Their names are spoken with reverence by the weak and resentment by the divine. They have tasted greatness and know it to be bitter. The world does not love them—it merely uses them until they fall.
Legendary
They walk with the weight of a thousand hopes pressed against their spine. Statues are carved in their likeness—only to be buried in moss and dirt when the next storm comes.
Mythical
Bound to fate like stars to the void. No longer common sense, Mythicals bend the world subtly. Dreams whisper their names, and nightmares flinch at their tread. But power breeds hunger, and their downfall is often etched before their rise.
Titanic
Giants draped in mortal skin. To face one is to stare into the eyes of inevitability. They do not fight—realms simply crumble in their wake. Even gods speak of them with measured fear, for Titans are not made... they awaken.
Exalted
Exalted ones are worshipped and reviled in equal breath. Their will carves laws into existence. To follow them is salvation. To stand against them is to vanish. Most cannot look upon them without feeling small, broken, and wrong.
Primeval
The origin and the end.
These are not beings—they are forces. Not born, but remembered. The Primeval do not walk. They seep. They do not speak. The world bends to accommodate them. They are the things that came before gods, and what gods fear they will return to.