STATUS Alive, fled Arn Griishank – last seen in wolf form, whereabouts unknown
RANK Poruchik (Lieutenant) – insists on the correction every time
ASSIGNMENT Lycanthrope training & retrieval, Overseer Kaleb’s Dranathess detachment, Arn Griishank
ACCESS LEVEL Full authority within the Arn Griishank operation; none confirmed outside it
AGE Unrecorded – reads as fifties, though a true-born lycanthrope may wear it differently
ORIGINS Unconfirmed; rank and the project’s NIL funding both point toward Dranathess territory near Kalitzim
FIRST ON RECORD Session 50 – escorting the Agents in to Lord Valden’s dinner

Poruchik Kortagor Karver met the Agents at Arn Griishank’s gates with the same flat, gravelly courtesy he used on everyone – correcting anyone who called him Lieutenant rather than Poruchik, walking them in to dinner, standing at Kaleb’s shoulder without saying much of anything at all. He’s a lieutenant on paper. What he actually is, and has been since birth, is a true lycanthrope – not one of Kaleb’s engineered “subjects” but the genuine article, able to change at will and hold himself together in either shape without losing his mind to it.

That control is exactly why Kaleb keeps him close. Karver trains the soldier-subjects through their own forced transformations, tracks down the ones who run in wolf form when the process doesn’t take cleanly, and has, by his own account, been paid well to give up skin and blood samples for the grafting work – an arrangement he tolerates rather than enjoys. Whatever Kaleb’s project actually needed, Karver was built into the foundation of it from the start.

FILE NOTES

His name turns up in reports from well before Arn Griishank, tied to something he calls the Game – new recruits, or sometimes villagers, sent running through the dark as “prey” in what’s billed as a survival exercise with no casualties. It doesn’t always stay that way. “People aren’t meant to die in this,” one horrified defender is reported to have shouted, mid-game. Karver, already in wolf form by then, ran him down regardless.

It was Karver’s own soldiers who ambushed the Agents’ carriage on the road back from that dinner – and Karver who arrived once the fight was already won, walking the scene like a proud coach after a match. “Holy shit, Lt, that was wild,” one of his men said. Karver only corrected the rank. He dropped two packs of spare clothing for his soldiers to change back into, ordered the wounded tended, and nodded at the bound, bleeding Agents as an afterthought – “And med the… Game too. They did well.” The last thing any of them saw before he personally knocked them out cold was his boots pacing through the mud.

He surfaced again once the Agents turned the tables inside Kaleb’s lab – Kaleb screaming at him to “do something,” Karver answering with a flat, almost bored threat instead of a fight. By the time anyone thought to ask where he and Kaleb had actually gone, a stablehand’s account was the closest thing to an answer: a huge wolf-shape seen slipping into the stables, and every one of the surviving Troopers gone from Arn Griishank not long after.

“Now, you’re not going to do anything to make me angry are you? You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry…”

Poruchik Karver, to the Agents, moments before fleeing

STATUS: Filed under The Bad. Personally responsible for at least one prisoner-taking, an unknown number of soldiers bred and broken to share his own condition, and a standing habit – older than Section 18’s file on him – of treating captives as a game with a winning side. Still at large.