
Years after escaping the cursed realm above the beanstalk, Jack lives in the shadows of the mortal world, feared and whispered about. But old habits die hard and when Jack steals a priceless magical artifact from the King’s vault, he doesn't realize it belonged to the Royal Treasury of Lost Realms, tied directly to the dark forces of the beanstalk realm he once escaped.
The theft shatters a fragile magical pact, and now the King sends a ruthless bounty hunter to retrieve both Jack and the artifact, dead or alive. But the King’s sorcerers have bound the artifact with a curse: it must be returned to its origin, or its wielder will slowly be consumed.
Jack’s only hope? Climb the beanstalk again, return the artifact to the corrupted realm above, and restore what he broke before the bounty hunter finds him.
This map is far from done
Just a sneak peek

Jack is no longer the naive farm boy from the classic tale. This version is hardened, cunning, and unpredictable. Years of survival in a corrupted realm above the beanstalk have warped his mind. He’s resourceful but deeply mistrustful, with a feral intensity. Jack speaks in hushed riddles, often hinting at dark secrets from the land above.
In this darker reimagining, Jack didn't just steal from the giant, he unleashed something. When he climbed the beanstalk, he stumbled into a world of decay, twisted magic, and broken time. The giant’s world had long since fallen into ruin, plagued by a curse Jack unknowingly helped escape.
Trapped there for what felt like decades, Jack survived by scavenging and bargaining with the strange entities that roamed the beanstalk’s heights. Eventually, he found a way back down, but he's not the same. He’s brought something back with him, and the beanstalk now pulses with unnatural energy. Wherever he goes, shadows follow.
Bean Curse: Jack can summon small, writhing vines from the ground that ensnare or attack foes.
Giant’s Echo: Jack sometimes hears voice fragments of the giant’s thoughts and gains brief prophetic insight.

Long ago, when the world was still young and the skies were clearer, the giants were stewards of balance—keepers of the wilds and wardens of ancient ley lines buried deep beneath the roots of the world. Brundar was one of them: a Rootwarden, charged with protecting the sacred groves and mountain veins where nature's magic was strongest.
Brundar stood above all others in his clan—not for his size or strength (though both were considerable), but for his wisdom and resolve. While others slumbered through centuries or wandered into legend, Brundar remained rooted in his oath, bound to the land as its eternal guardian.
Centuries ago, a human king seeking immortality tore open the Leywild Gate, a hidden passage between worlds that Brundar's kind had long protected. The resulting surge of power scorched the mountain forests, shattered the ancient groves, and corrupted many of Brundar's kin—twisting them into warped monstrosities or erasing them entirely.
Brundar fought back, but the war cost him everything. His people. His home. His purpose.
Rather than succumb to despair, he exiled himself—choosing solitude over surrender. With chains made of woven root and stone, he bound himself to the surviving leyline beneath the dead mountain, vowing to defend it until the world remembered what it had forgotten.

Croaklin wasn’t always magical—nor was he always a frog.
Once a down-on-his-luck hedge wizard in the criminal underbelly of Mireport, Croaklin made his living rigging enchanted dice, conjuring illusions in back alley taverns, and selling fake fortunes to drunk nobles. His talents with charm spells and sleight of hand made him notorious—but one night, he bet more than he could bluff.
During a game of Spindleboneswith a traveling archfey disguised as a toothless beggar, Croaklin cheated—and was cursed on the spot. The fey turned him into a frog, declaring, "If you love your luck so dearly, let it stick to your slimy skin forever."
But Croaklin didn’t croak.
He embraced the change. Over time, he learned to channel the chaotic weave of luck magic through his new amphibian form. He stitched together a robe from discarded cloth, forged enchanted charms from lost trinkets, and carved his first wizard staff from a tavern stool leg.
Now, Croaklin travels the land as a wandering gambler-wizard, wagering spells, secrets, and sometimes souls at high-stakes tables in underground mage duels and ethereal casinos.

Long ago, Vyla was born from the breath of moonlight and the last scream of a dying star — or so the fables say. She was once heir to the Glimmer Throne, a noble bloodline of fae who ruled the Mirror Hollows, a place where reflection and truth were dangerously intertwined. Her wings shimmered gold back then. Her eyes held galaxies.
But power in the fey realm is never held — only borrowed.
During a failed coup led by her twin brother, Vyla was betrayed, wing-bound, and cast out into the Cracked Realms — a shattered borderland between life, dream, and the in-between. Her wings, once symbols of royalty, were infected with shade-rot, a corruption that burned away their light and left behind the tattered, translucent blades you see now.
She survived by hiding in ruins and feeding on stray dreams, discarded memories, and the occasional lost wanderer. Over centuries, her mind frayed at the edges. Not broken — but... bent. Vyla speaks in riddles. Laughs when she’s afraid. And often forgets if she’s being kind, or cruel, or both.
In Stalker, Vyla is a key NPC (and potential companion). Jack meets her in the Glassrot Marsh, where she is attempting to sew together torn dreams using spider silk and promises. She offers help — for a price.
Her motives are unclear:
She can guide Jack through twisted fey logic puzzles, open magical shortcuts, and even possess items to “whisper” to them. But she will notalways be truthful. If Jack betrays her trust, Vyla may turn hostile — or worse — whisper secrets to your enemies.

Rak Thorn was born in the Ashen Iron Wastes, a blighted stretch of land where the only law was blood, and the only currency was pain. As a child, he was traded to a fleshforger— a cruel blacksmith who augmented warriors with cursed metals in exchange for their memories. Rak was reforged again and again until only fragments of the boy remained.
He became a weapon with a face. His body now carries dozens of hidden modifications: whirring joints, retractable snares, ghoststeel ligaments, and even a rune-burned oath brand that binds him to any contract sealed in royal ink.
Years later, he was recruited by the King of the Beanstalk Realm, not because he was loyal — but because he wasn’t. Rak has no love for kingdoms or kings. He hunts because it’s the only thing that still makes sense to him. Contracts fill the hole where a soul might’ve been.
But he remembers Jack. Not well — but enough to know that the boy once looked at him with something close to pity. That unsettles him. Deeply.
Rak Thorn is the persistent force hunting Jack after the theft of the Royal Seed Vault. He's not fast — but he’s relentless. He tracks Jack across realms using scent, sound, and shadowtrails. If he ever catches up? He offers choices, not just combat.
Mechanically, Rak can appear during moments of rest, leveling up, or false security. He might:
He is also the keeper of the Ledger — a cursed journal that lists every unpaid debt across the known and unknown worlds. And Jack's name has recently been written in ink that screams.
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