Skritch Vellumspine

Skritch hails from a forgotten pocket of reality called the Inkroot Hollows, a place where thoughts grow like fungus and forgotten ideas sprout legs and wander off. He was once just a scribble—literally—a half-finished creature abandoned in a wizard’s spellbook mid-incantation. But the magic didn’t fade. It fermented.

Over time, Skritch clawed his way out of the margins, stitched himself together with stray runes, and taught himself just enough spellcraft to be dangerous in a “who gave the toddler a flamethrower?” kind of way.

Now he roams between worlds, collecting oddities: broken spells, lost names, emotions people drop without noticing. He trades them, tinkers with them, sometimes eats them (he regrets the “existential dread truffle”—too chewy).

Despite the sharp teeth and mischief grin, Skritch isn’t evil—he’s just… wildly curious, morally flexible, and convinced that reality is more fun when it’s slightly bent out of shape.

Also, he absolutely started that glowing glyph in his hand just to see what would happen.