Cataris Turren

Cataris Turren 32mm.

Cataris Turren, the blacksmith’s daughter, had always been more fascinated by shimmering spells than glowing steel. While her father hammered blades and armor, she secretly studied transformation magic, her nose buried in dusty grimoires. One evening, attempting a simple charm to sharpen her senses, she mispronounced an ancient syllable—and with a soft poof, a pair of long, velvety rabbit ears sprouted from her head. Instead of panic, she felt a curious delight. They twitched at the slightest sound, catching whispers of the wind and distant threats long before anyone else. Though the townsfolk whispered, Cataris soon found her new ears more gift than curse—a unique mark of a magic that was entirely her own.

When bandits began prowling the farmlands, Cataris didn’t seek help. She simply walked into her father’s forge, hefted his massive two-handed war hammer—a weapon no ordinary person could swing—and strode toward the fields. Under the moonlight, she stood guard, her rabbit ears scanning the darkness for footsteps. The raiders laughed until she moved—not with brute force, but with uncanny speed and precision, the hammer spinning in her hands like a reed. She never struck to kill, only to disarm and deter, her ears alert to every cry and retreat. The bandits fled, speaking of a gentle-looking girl with rabbit ears who fought like a wrath of the earth itself. And Cataris? She simply smiled, ears perked—ready for whatever, or whoever, came next.