Caius's Questionnaire

Caius the Hollowed – The Beggar’s Refuge

Caius does not live anywhere in the way others might. Home is wherever the wind does not bite too fiercely, where the rats do not fight for his last scrap of bread. He drifts through ruined alleys and sunken crypts, lingering in the broken husks of homes long abandoned. Sometimes, he shelters beneath the shattered ribs of a fallen giant, other times in the shadow of a forgotten shrine, hoping to steal warmth from dying embers.

The Undead Settlement once offered him a place among the wretched, but even they shunned him. The dregs of society call him lesser still. And so, he wanders—a man without walls, without comfort, without rest.

Caius the Hollowed – A Beggar’s Means

Caius has no steady coin, no trade but desperation. He scavenges what others leave behind—rummaging through corpses, prying loose souls from rusted armor, clutching at scraps of worth in the filth. When the strong have no need for their swords, he takes them. When the dead no longer grasp their coins, he does.

If fortune favors him, he barters with the wary: a half-broken blade for a crust of bread, a tarnished ring for a sip of stale ale. What little wealth he gains is spent on survival—food, rags to keep the cold from gnawing too deeply, and, when desperation peaks, a torch to ward off the darkness that creeps ever closer.

Caius the Hollowed – The Will to Live

Caius does not dream of grandeur, nor of power, nor even of escape from this wretched existence. He has only one ambition: to live.

Survival is his creed, his purpose, his only truth. He does not take risks for honor, nor fight battles he cannot win. If blood must be spilled, it will not be his. He would steal, deceive, and flee without shame—whatever it takes to see another sunrise.

But there is a line, one he will not cross. If a choice leads to certain death, he will not make it. No treasure, no promise, no cause is worth throwing himself into the abyss. Death comes for all things in time—but not today. Not if Caius can help it.

Caius the Hollowed – The Fall

Once, Caius was not a beggar. He was a man like any other, scraping by in a world that cared little for his struggle. He had a place, a meager home, a name that meant something to someone. But all of that was taken when the curse came.

The day he Hollowed was the day he lost everything. His neighbors turned away, fearing the slow rot of undeath. His friends abandoned him, unwilling to share in his fate. The guards drove him from the city like a rat in the streets. With nowhere to go, he wandered, clinging to scraps of humanity as the curse gnawed at his mind.

That was the day he learned the truth—no one would save him. No one cared whether he lived or died. The world moves on, indifferent to the suffering of the weak. From that moment on, Caius knew: if he wanted to survive, he would have to do it alone.

Caius the Hollowed – Me, Myself, and I

• Me – The one who remembers. The man Caius used to be before the curse took everything. He recalls the warmth of a fire, the taste of real food, the sound of laughter not laced with madness. But memories are a burden. They whisper of things lost, of comforts he will never know again. Me is weak, clinging to a life that no longer exists.

• Myself – The one who suffers. The beggar, the wretch, the scavenger crawling through filth. Myself is the one who starves, who shivers in the cold, who watches stronger men take what they want while he hides. He knows pain, fear, and the weight of hunger.

• I – The one who endures. The voice that says, survive. I does not look back, does not grieve, does not hope. I keeps moving, no matter how much Me and Myself want to stop. I is all that matters.