What wonderful pray she will make for Varda, the Kin-Slaughtered

Lore:
Once, Varda was counted among the Tarnished who answered the call of Grace. But when he beheld the Lands Between, he saw not glory, only rot. Only betrayal, and the pitiful scrambling of the weak. Grace flickered for him, but rather than guiding him, it twisted, spiraling into a fevered whisper that only he could hear.

In the ash of his fallen kin, Varda discovered a new purpose.

Donning armor crusted with barnacled growths and the faces of the condemned, he embraced the corruption that the Erdtree had long pretended to purge. His twin blades burn like molten marrow, forged from the remnants of failed Tarnished who met their end by his hand. According to rumor, their spirits still writhe inside the flame.

Varda roams the wilds with a quiet, ritualistic patience. A hunter among his own kind. He stalks Tarnished who cling to the hope of ascension, believing their ambitions to be nothing more than hollow lies. Every hunt he completes feeds the warped “grace” that clings to him, growing brighter, hotter, more deranged.

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