Meet the Iconics: Usharak

You never truly understand how important something is until it’s gone. This is the sad truth Usharak carries.

Usharak was born in a small village on a riverbank in the Graidmere Swamp in northeastern Ustalav. The swamp was a strange place, bathed in the silence of secrets. But the village within it always felt safe to Usharak, watched over and protected by the fallen generation before him. Generations of iruxis embedded their bones with a piece of their souls to help protect their home from the ever-lingering threats of the swamp. Their bones are only capable of maintaining this power for a time, though; just enough to protect the next generation. The village bone keeper ensures that the protective cycle continues.

As a young iruxi, Usharak often joined his friends, Telek and Arakuru, on hunts. Usharak could hardly keep up with them, and he often wondered why they bothered bringing him along to begin with. The two hunters usually managed to bring bounties back to the village while keeping Usharak from making a complete fool of himself in the swamp. However, after the hunt, it was Usharak who would bring them to the hill at night, just outside the swamplands. They would gaze at the sky as they drifted off to sleep, taking turns trying to use the stars to predict their future or tell the stories of past heroes. Usharak always told the best stories. They came to him like a whisper in his ear.

These whispers got louder as he grew up. He learned that the whispers were not his imagination, but his ancestors passing along their triumphs and regrets. This was the sign that he was called to be the next bone keeper. Once this was discovered, he could no longer participate in the hunts or leave the swamp to spend nights atop the hill. He was sent to be the apprentice of the bone keeper, Nishkim.

Life as Nishkim’s apprentice was hard for Usharak. The old bone keeper spent her days with the dead and her nights mourning with the village. Life was no longer about simple joys and satisfying hunts, but instead the dreary work of encasing bone into glass to preserve their occult magics. Mastering the necromancy needed to protect the village meant constant exposure to all that rots and stinks. The wonders of wizardry and miracles of divine magic are enough to sustain many as they learn magic, but the art of necromancy is learned through the study of corpses and the breaking of bodies. For many who study it, death is the fascination that draws them in, but for Usharak, who hated the idea of death, this was the hardest part.

Usharak fought his training at every turn, but the whispers grew louder and more sorrowful whenever he rebelled, and he always returned to his work with his tail between his legs. Nishkim was tough but understanding. She always gave Usharak time to collect himself and come back on his own. The old bone keeper knew more than most about the burden and importance of this calling, knew that it couldn’t be ignored or neglected. Nishkim also knew that one day Usharak would wear her skull upon his head and be the first line of defense against the strange forces within the swamp. But what she didn’t know was just how soon that day would come.

Weeks after Usharak came into adulthood, the normally solitary followers of the Old Cults organized enough to launch a formidable attack on the village. Nishkim repelled them, but not before being inflicted with a vicious curse that slowly ate away at her flesh. Usharak would soon become the bone keeper of his village, but he wasn’t ready. He had not yet found it in his heart to love the position. How could he do this for the rest of his life?

The day that Nishkim died, Usharak ran. He ran from his responsibility, from the voices, from himself. He needed time to think. He ran to the hill where he’d often escaped as a child. He laid in the grass as the sun set and watched the stars drift by. His heart was full of memories of friends, and the stories of their childhood hunts filled his mind.

No amount of running could bring them back. Usharak resolved to return in the morning. He might not get his childhood back, but at least he could keep the village safe for the next generation. He cried himself to sleep, mourning his old teacher and the carefree days he had to leave behind.

Usharak awoke late in the evening, finally ready to start his new life protecting what he loved most. But when he turned to face the village, he immediately noticed something was wrong. Black smoke filled the swamp and only grew thicker as he ran toward his home. When he finally arrived, it was too late. The cultists had returned to the unprotected village to continue their slaughter. None were spared.

Something in Usharak broke that day. He was to blame for this. He had run away from his responsibilities, and the village paid the ultimate price. He spent what seemed like an eternity going through the ruins, collecting a bone from each body and memorizing every villager’s name before encasing every single one in a coffin of glass. Eventually, he reached the limits of what could be done with the ruins of his old broken home.

Usharak now wanders, but not aimlessly. He carries a bone from every member of his village as a constant reminder of his responsibility and his failures. He will find a way to bring them all back, or he will die with his village around him.

Joshua Birdsong
Designer