Introducing the Grimbreed Wave 2:  Souleater - Trivok
 
In the realm of Amaranth, where the fog rolls in like a suffocating shroud, the Grimbreed haunt the cobblestone streets, a cursed order fractured by fate's cruel hand. By the witching hour, they emerge—some with the burning resolve of tarnished heroes, wielding rusted swords and ancient incantations to fend off the creeping nightmares that sought to consume the living. Their monstrous forms, twisted by agony and regret, move with a purpose that is both tragic and noble. Also among them lurk those who have surrendered to the cursed darkness, reveling in their newfound malevolence, with eyes glowing a sinister crimson and whispers that send shivers down spines. These dark enforcers spread terror and chaos, turning the land into a twisted, ghostly battleground where night and its defenders are locked in an eternal, harrowing dance, each gripping the fragile thread of hope or despair.
 
Trivok
 
Cursed once by mortal folly, twice by divine wrath, and a third by his own desperate grasp at forbidden eternity, Trivok the Thrice-Damned drifts between realms as a lament made fleshless. His skull, grotesquely preserved by sorcery that reeks of grave-soil and despair, gnashes with fangs that drip memory of blood long turned to dust; hollow eye-sockets burn with a consciousness that neither life nor death may soothe. Once a proud knight sworn to honor and hearth, he now trembles beneath the weight of three condemnations—each a chain unseen yet felt with every tortured whisper of wind across his bone. He stalks the night not in hunger alone, but in ceaseless yearning for the warmth he betrayed, for the mercy denied him, and for the final oblivion that forever retreats before his sorrow-driven steps, leaving him a spectral warning to all who would seek power beyond the grace of rightful doom.