The mysterious character you play as throughout the Campaign mode.

Qaz is a strange welder who speaks more Cat than English. He learned Cat by accident, just by hanging around Mao, the cat sorceress who slips out of English whenever she gets excited or annoyed.
While everyone else heard nothing but random meows and growls, Qaz quietly started noticing patterns—this sound for “stop,” that one for “careful,” another for “you’re an idiot but I like you anyway.” Over time, he picked up the language piece by piece, until he could argue with Mao in perfect Cat without even thinking.
Now he wears a flower bud as a helmet, talks to alley cats like they’re old coworkers, and patches together enchanted metal for anyone who can afford him. Nobody knows where he came from, and no one really asks. With a Honey Bud and a welding torch in one hand and a grumpy sorceress cat annoying the absolute crap outta him behind his back, Qaz already looks too ridiculous for his origin story to be the strangest thing about him.

Owner of the Armory.

Smould is widely known as one of the greatest warriors to ever walk the arena. In 2008, he did what no one else had managed: he pushed Sangahn to the edge of defeat—and lost everything in the attempt. The match ended with Smould broken on the floor, his body shattered and his legend stained, yet somehow still alive.
Years later, he wanders the fringes of the world, a living reminder that even legends can fail. People hunt him down, begging for the secret to defeating Sangahn once and for all. Most leave with nothing but a story and a warning.
But on rare occasions—when he sees the same reckless fire he once carried—Smould shares what he learned in those final seconds of the fight. A weakness. A pattern. A single opening. For those few, his words might be the difference between becoming a new legend… or another forgotten corpse at Sangahn’s feet.

Owner of the Weaponry.

Mao is a cat sorceress who's very talkative, supportive, and has a huge Magic the Gathering addiction. Everyone loves her dearly.

Lately, a few persons have started whispering that she’s some kind of fallen angel—trying to explain her eerie white pupils and the way the air hums when she’s really focused—but Mao herself denies it every time, usually with a snort and a very un-angelic hairball.
Often times she'll speak some weird cat language to herself and a sometimes accidently speak it in front of her customers, and while they just laugh it off, they haven't a clue what she's trying to warn them. Qaz is the only other person who's figured her out and can speak Cat fluently.

For now, Mao is on a relentless hunt for the legendary Power Nine of MTG, in any condition or version, so long as the magic is real and the cardboard is powerful.

Owner of the Conjury.

Just some random Gen Z dude from the streets who saw one of the flyers, yelled "OooOoOoH tHis seEms fUn!" and joined it with absolutely no idea what's even happening.

She’s possibly one of the smartest and nerdiest persons in Kori, who if we’re being honest, could probably pass every exam in the kingdom and verbally destroy your confidence before you even sharpen your pencil.

Archimedes was that kid who finished the textbook in the first week and then started correcting the teacher’s notes. By age 10, she could recite every constellation, the exact boiling point of six different magical potions, and at least fifty creative ways to roast someone’s cooking… in a thick Finnish accent that somehow makes every insult sound twice as intense. Archimedes isn’t just smart.
She can cook. Like, dangerously well. She runs a little midnight food stall on the edge of Kori’s capital city, where warriors, mages, and travelers all line up for a taste of her cooking… and try not to cry from her insults.

Despite all the roasting, Archimedes actually cares a lot. She’ll mock your spellcasting form, call it “tragic,” then stay up three extra hours tutoring you until you get it right. She’ll insult your potion-brewing technique, then label all your ingredients, color-code your notes, and rewrite your recipe with better handwriting.

Allegedly Sangahn's best guard he has.
Contenders feared Derkflen not because of his sword skills (which were… acceptable), but because he could stand perfectly still in armor for eight hours straight, looking so serious that everyone assumed he knew what he was doing.

His greatest ‘victory’ was the defeat of the Giant Land Fish of Norr Vale, which he accomplished by tripping down a hill, losing his helmet, and accidentally beaning the creature in the eye. In his frantic scramble to stand back up, he slipped across its slimy back, knocked over a row of signposts, and triggered an old grain silo to burst—burying the monster in a suffocating avalanche. By the time the dust settled, Derkflen was the only one still touching the beast, so the witnesses decided it had clearly been his plan all along, and he has been too embarrassed to correct the story ever since.

He's a cold-blooded fusion of fox and dragon, born under a cursed eclipse.

With a third eye that sees beyond time and icy breath that silences kingdoms, he spreads frozen ruin in pursuit of absolute control.

He was not always this way. Once, he was just a regular Finnish guy in Helsinki, obsessed with one impossible dream: building a rocket to explore space. With no money and no connections, he entered a brutal underground fighting tournament, expecting to lose but hoping for a miracle. Instead, he won. Millions in prize money, a body covered in scars, and a mind that had learned to do anything to survive.

It took him six relentless months to build his ship—a cramped one‑man pod of steel, wires, and stubborn faith. When he finally left Earth behind, drifting among cold stars, he thought he had escaped the ugliness of the world below.

Then he found it.

An unknown planet, quiet and snow‑covered, hanging alone in the dark. As he orbited, a shard of frozen light tore across the sky—a snowy meteor screaming toward the surface. It hit with a soundless flash. A strange, shimmering gas billowed through space, seeping into the cracks of his pod, into his lungs, into his thoughts.

The thing inside the meteor didn’t just touch him. It rewrote him.

Flesh stretched. Bone lengthened. Fur like frostbitten snow spread across his skin, and scaled plates of dragon-ice wrapped his limbs. A third eye snapped open on his forehead, already full of memories from futures that had not yet happened.

When the storm settled, he stood on the planet’s surface, no longer sure where his thoughts ended and the meteor’s will began. He named the frozen world his first country. Then, with his new sight locked on distant worlds, he stepped forward to conquer the rest.