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One of the last humans to be saved from the first end of the world during the First War, T’ir could not speak. He was huge and misshapen; a veritable giant who’d clearly fought monsters to the point that everything, from his face down, was scarred.

His eyes held attention, in spite of that – soulful, thick-lashed, clearly communicating the pain and fear and anger his lips could not.

He was given to Notte to train into something useful, or be tossed back out into the storm.