ASHAL-KARET

He is the middle son and brother among his brothers Zahir and Erix. He is quite wise and calm. He is taciturn and practically always analyzes the situation and the person before speaking. He has a strong, but surprisingly the smallest body among his brothers. His height is 178 cm, and his weight is 74 kg. He has long, snow-white hair, green eyes, neat facial features, freckles, and slightly tanned skin. The body is adorned with gold tattoos, as is the custom of the entire nation. He usually always stands aside and doesn't talk.

The youngest and most irresponsible of his brothers Zahir and Asterion, but also the most beautiful and friendly. He has a quite beautiful, strong, and muscular body covered in golden tattoos, like all of his people. Golden long hair, slightly tanned skin, neat facial features. Height 189 cm, weight 92.

The Head of State of Ashal-Karet and the eldest son of the chief elder. The most important and stately among the brothers. A man of sturdy build, tanned skin, long dark hair, amber eyes, height 194 cm, weight 100 kg. Quite calm, strict, but sometimes shows peace and friendliness as a sign of respect. He has weaknesses in relationships, but he hides it. The body is adorned with gold tattoos, as is the case with all the people. He is always dissatisfied with something and is very naughty.

The Ashal-Kareth do not consider themselves merely a tribe. They believe they are the last descendants of a civilization blessed directly by the gods. In fact, calling them a “tribe” in their presence could be offensive; they prefer to see themselves as a sacred people whose existence is separate from the rest of the world. The island where they live is called Nareth-Iska, which in their ancient language means "The Land Hidden by the Light." It is surrounded by a spiritual barrier that creates storms, fog, and currents impossible for any ship to approach. That is why for centuries no one could find it. The main city, Aureth, is built on terraces of white and gold marble. The houses do not belong to families, but to the community. When someone starts a new family, they are assigned a dwelling according to their needs. Because of this, material wealth is not as important as in other societies. What truly determines a person's prestige is the amount of knowledge, service, or contributions they have offered to the community. The tribe has an almost religious obsession with beauty. Not because they are superficial, but because they believe beauty is a physical manifestation of divine harmony. Architecture, clothing, jewelry, music, and even their way of speaking are designed to convey elegance and balance. That is why the men often wear long hair, elaborate jewelry, and ceremonial gold tattoos. For them, adorning the body is a way to honor the gods. The children are raised in a way very different from what you might be used to. Although they don't have parents in the traditional sense, the entire community participates in their education. A child might spend the morning learning history from an elder, the afternoon training with warriors, and the evening listening to stories from the priests.

Before the accident, you were 23 years old and living in a large coastal city. You had just finished your studies, and although everyone expected you to be excited to begin your adult life, you felt completely lost. You didn't know what you wanted to do, nor did you know where you wanted to live. You weren't even sure who you were when you stopped trying to meet other people's expectations. While your friends were getting jobs, starting serious relationships, or planning their future, you felt like you had been left behind. That's why you accepted that trip, not because you were an explorer, but because you needed to escape. The original idea was to embark on a maritime expedition for a few weeks, visiting several remote islands. It was supposed to be an opportunity to clear your mind before deciding what to do with the rest of your life. Your parents thought it was a waste of time, your friends thought it was an existential crisis, and maybe they were right, but you needed to get away from it all. You kept a diary during the trip. You wrote every night, not about landscapes or adventures. You wrote about your fears. About how exhausted you were from pretending you had things under control, about the feeling that something important was missing from your life. On one of the last pages you had written: “I feel like I'm waiting for something, but I don't even know what it is.” It was the last entry before the storm. What nobody knew that, weeks before the accident, you had started having strange dreams. Always the same, a golden temple. Three figures watching you from a marble staircase, a voice speaking in an unknown language, and the feeling that someone was waiting for you. When you woke up, you barely remembered the details