Crusaders are the true heroes of Mendev, but there are always those who are erased from history, and who wait in the darkness until they are recognized and revealed to the world once more. The mongrels are one such people that history forgot, the cursed children of the First Crusade. “Lann the Man '' is one of them, a stoic zen archer and dispenser of dry wit.

Mongrels are the descendants of the first crusaders, whose souls were untouched by the corruption, but whose bodies suffered the aftereffects of the Worldwound. Their offspring were born with various mutations, and the luckiest of them — those who were able to breathe and had a full set of vital organs — faced fear and hatred because of their resemblance to demons.

The mongrels were driven into the damp and dark caves beneath Kenabres, and gradually, as one short-lived generation replaced another, the crusades themselves became the stuff of legends, and the surface an unachievable dream. To this day, the mongrels believe that they are the “crusaders below,” protecting Mendev from the monsters that lurk in the darkness.

Lann can be considered one of the luckiest of his race. Born to a mongrel father and half-elf mother, he looks half-man, half-lizard, and with a prominent horn, but his peculiar appearance doesn't prevent him from being charming in his own brusque way.

Lann hasn’t spent his entire life in the caves. For some time, his parents wandered between surface and underground, looking for a place where their unusual family could live in peace. Because of this, he speaks Common freely, and has first-hand knowledge of the world that the other mongrels fear.

Yes, Lann’s life has been full of hardship, but he is not one for brooding. He wears his sense of humor like armor, and uses jokes to cheer those around him. His reliable nature makes him the perfect companion for a dangerous journey.

A cave isn’t the best training ground for an archer, but Lann had no other place to master his skills: his tribe's survival depended on his ability to hunt anywhere. This harsh training has made him the perfect zen archer—patient, but quick to shoot. Rest assured, with Lann at your side, the enemy won’t even get close.
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The joy of music, the sound of battle, the history of conflict, the beauty of the rhythm that emerges from the chaos—those who seek it, record it, experience it, are skalds. Historians and poets, skalds balance on the brink of violence and civilization. They record heroic battles and the deeds of great leaders from the front lines, never shying away from performing a leading role.

Skalds themselves are no strangers to violence, for how can someone ignorant of the bloody realities of war translate them into songs? And those songs are destined to be sung neither for noble courtiers nor for tavern rabble—only for war. In the midst of battle, the skald recites them, driving allies into a murderous rage, inspiring them to superhuman feats of strength, and striking terror into their enemies. Sometimes the skald’s poetry reaches even the dead, reminding them of their duty and bringing them back to life for a short time to continue the fight.

Skalds are keepers of lore, and their knowledge is not limited to war—they are learned in traditions and the world, in nature and religion, and in magic as well. Talented spellcasters, just like bards they learn spells to aid their allies in battle and to break their enemies. Keeping not only lore but also military traditions, skalds perfect their skills with their chosen weapons, merging performance and martial efficiency into a deadly art.

Yet no one knows better than skalds that mere skill is not enough to win against overwhelming odds—emotions, morale, rage, and righteous wrath rule over the battlefield. Like barbarians, skalds foster their rage and study its different facets and powers, and then channel it into their frenzied songs. This deep understanding of their primal side brings them closer to barbarians—always on edge and ready for battle.

Of course, as civilizations and cultures advanced and branched off from one another, some found the need for different types of skalds. A battle scion fits better with disciplined armies that act as well-oiled machines, concentrating more on teamwork than on the primal aspects of rage. A demon dancer channels abyssal wrath into their songs, fighting like a demon and warping the minds of those around them. A hunt caller focuses on the animalistic aspects of rage and can literally transform allies into animals. A herald of the horn uses songs to awaken companions that are afraid or that have fallen under the effects of enemy spells, and specializes in destructive magic. Court poets, meanwhile, find themselves in different battles altogether, be it deadly palace intrigues or duels between mages.
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