Amaedrianna Blüdfist

Amaedrianna is played by DerangedRhyno. You can Follow him on Instagram, Twitch and TikTok

Sometimes she is Amaedrianna Blüdfist, heir to a crime empire that pretends it is a kingdom.

Born in a city that runs on gold, Amaedrianna grew up in the shadow of Kael Bloodstone, a man whose power is spoken of in the same breath as earthquakes and fires. The house she called home was a fortress disguised as a palace, with birthday parties that ended in executions and lessons taught in blood rather than ink. Very early, she learned two truths: love can be a weapon, and information can kill faster than any blade. One careless sentence cost men their lives and left her broken on the floor. After that, she stopped being a child and became something sharper.

Her mother, Valentina Russo, refused to let that be the end of her. Valentina wrapped what was left of that little girl in leather, steel and clever lies. She commissioned a harness that could hide Amaedrianna’s crimson wings against her spine, let her walk through crowded streets as if she were ordinary, then tear the seams open when she needed the sky. She taught her daughter how to smile in rooms full of monsters, how to tuck fear behind a glassy stare, how to survive a life bought and paid for by other people’s suffering.

By nineteen, Amaedrianna was already a ghost-story in Vurduar. A Skywarden who could slip in and out of locked rooms, a voice in the ear of the Crimson Embers, a rumour perched on the balcony of The Spiv with a glass in hand and a knife within reach. She knew every back alley, every rooftop run, and every secret door that led to her father’s empire.

The city taught her to be ruthless. Valentina taught her to be careful. Between the two of them, they forged an operative who never arrives where she is expected and never leaves by the front door.

Leaving Vurduar for Maleficum’s Arcanum of Magic and Might was not an escape so much as a strategic relocation. She stepped onto the Crescent Pearl with a stolen education in crime, a ring from her mother pressed into her palm, and a warning from her father still ringing in her ears. She quickly met the group she would travel with. They were all broken in different ways. She recognised that. She has always been good with broken things.

Since then, Amaedrianna has flown through fire and storm, fought beside rebels, scholars and disasters in human shape, and watched more than one dream burn down around her. She has walked through laboratories that should not exist, stared down things that were never meant to crawl out of old stories, and stood in courtrooms where the world decided whether people like her should be allowed to learn at all. When gods and governments argue about what to do with magic, she is usually somewhere in the rafters, listening.

For all the knives and clever plans, people are the one weakness she has never quite managed to kill off. She mourns loudly in private and quietly in public. She steals journals from the dead, reads them in the dark, and lets their words sit beside her own. She sends children out of Vurduar under false papers and real names, a quiet rebellion against the man who raised her. She builds homes now, not just hideouts. First in borrowed dormitories and forest huts, then in the bones of a ruined academy that a small group of misfits chose to call a Bastion.

Amaedrianna is not a hero, not in the way stories usually mean it. She is a creature of alleys and side doors who has somehow become central to a fight that spans gods, empires and the ghosts of old wars. She moves where others cannot, carries secrets no one else is allowed to know, and holds a very simple wish close to her heart: that one day, a child in Vurduar will be able to grow up without learning what bone sounds like when it breaks. Until then, she flies, she lies, she protects what is hers, and she keeps her knives sharp.