{"address":"0x38a453e074a34f498c43a7e62434bc9f847dc154","name":"Thuensh the Long Silence","bloodlineVersion":"bloodline-v1","genome":"0x29cb79a8fe222b9520f5edc7bbd31a2c7ab17b2326ca657396961a2b02ccb813","generation":0,"house":{"slug":"the-terminal","name":"House Nightrail","words":"The Last Road Awaits"},"houseVersion":"house-v1","genes":[{"group":"lineage","trait":"ember cantor"},{"group":"build","trait":"angular, joints like hinges"},{"group":"armor","trait":"pitch-sealed oak boards"},{"group":"weapon","trait":"a maul of compacted rust"},{"group":"headpiece","trait":"a laurel of dead thorns"},{"group":"mark","trait":"a gauntlet missing its smallest finger"},{"group":"relic","trait":"an iron crown at the belt, never worn"},{"group":"secondary","trait":"moss thriving in the shadowed joints"},{"group":"element","trait":"cold blue foxfire"},{"group":"palette","trait":"ink black and moth-wing cream"},{"group":"stance","trait":"weapon shouldered, at ease"},{"group":"temper","trait":"feral beneath ritual calm"},{"group":"form","trait":"a genderless shape of armor and intent"}],"distinguishingMark":{"side":"right","wear":"bound tight","count":"seven","token":"salt-white beads"},"recessives":{"lineage":"bone-charmer of the deep barrows","build":"squat and immovable","armor":"frost-rimed chainmail","weapon":"a staff crowned with a dead lantern","headpiece":"a cracked porcelain mask, expressionless","mark":"runic weld-seams down one arm","relic":"a shard of throne-wood on a thong","secondary":"stitched repairs in mismatched thread","element":"thin rain that touches nothing else","palette":"charcoal and furnace orange","stance":"set, weight low and even","temper":"weary beyond fear","form":"a young woman with old, unblinking eyes"},"prompt":"A genderless shape of armor and intent — an ember cantor, angular, joints like hinges. Clad in pitch-sealed oak boards; moss thriving in the shadowed joints. Wearing a laurel of dead thorns; bearing a maul of compacted rust. Marked by a gauntlet missing its smallest finger; it carries an iron crown at the belt, never worn. Wreathed in cold blue foxfire, its colors ink black and moth-wing cream. Caught weapon shouldered, at ease — feral beneath ritual calm. The mark rides the right side; its relic is bound tight, trimmed with seven salt-white beads.","note":"This is not a preview. Your fighter is computed from your wallet address alone — no arena, no timestamp, no second input — so forging produces exactly this, now and in every cycle after. Nobody, including us, can change it. Your House is in the same address, and is not a choice either.","ruleset":"prompt-duel-v1"}