NIMITT KALANTRI

PERSONAL DATA

REAL NAME: Nimitt Kalantri
HEIGHT: 5’10” (but walks like he’s seven-foot dread)
WEIGHT: 80 kg — give or take a few dead demons
HAIR: Black. Matted in grave-dust, and last night’s exorcism.
EYES: Pitch. Darker than your daddy issues.
OCCUPATION: Psychic Merc. Mystic Gun-for-Hire. Shaman. Occult Brawler. Tarot Sniper. Dream-Hunter. Exorcist for the damned.
GROUP AFFILIATION: None. Packs are for puppies. He walks alone.
HOME BASE: Varanasi — Earth’s third-eye, where the holy weeps and the unholy burns.

FRIENDS:

GRAY WOLF

A wolf that hunts in sleep and pisses on dreamcatchers.

SKELLY

Dead loudmouth with no off-switch and less morals.

ALPHA

Shepherd with a bite meaner than his bark — sniffs lies like landmines.

ENEMIES:

Fake-ass psychics. Greedy tarot grifters. Black magic sellouts and spiritual clout-chasers. Shadow leeches. Ash-slinging tantriks who sold their mantras for power. Babas and gurus turned ghoul pimps.

HISTORY:

Fifth gen Brahmin shaman — but tradition ain’t what made him. He didn’t follow the path, instead, he turned tradition into a tactical weapon.

Tantra. Kabbalah. Pagan rites. Norse hexes. African bones. Hebrew whispers. He learned ‘em all. Ate ‘em raw. Now he walks with the weight of dead gods and the rage of ones still breathing.

TOOLS & SYMBOLS:

THE AETHERNTHORN KEY:

Ancient Celtic artifact. Opens doors to places no sane fucker wants to walk, Or seals your fate. Depends who’s turning it.

ZODIAC COMPASS WATCH:

Tells dreamtime, spirit winds, and when the ethereal’s about to punch a hole in reality.

SILVER COIN:

Blessing or betrayal — only he knows which face bites harder.

COPPER DICE:

Rolls when the spirits speak, If they stand on edge — grab salt, iron, and your balls.

ROSARIES & TALISMANS:

Aghori beads strung with prayer and defiance. Totems scribed in eclipse light and holy river.

AGHORI SHAFT:

Wrapped in gravecloth, smeared with ash, studded with bells that make spirits piss themselves. It’s a loaded curse, walking upright. When it hits, it sings in Sanskrit. And screams in everything else.

THE BLACK TAROT:

This deck doesn’t predict. It dissects.
It maps what could be—based on what you’re really doing, not what you’re pretending to.

It reads energy, not excuses.
It clocks hidden motives, false light, and sweet-tongued liars.
It’s not for the hopeful—it’s for the hunter.

CRYSTALS:

Amethyst: Sucks nightmares dry like a black hole on a bender.
– Serpentine: Cracks past life trauma like a crowbar through a coffin.
– Fire Opal: Lights your psychic fuse and dares you to explode.
– Black Lava: Grounds rage into tectonic vengeance.
– Blue Tiger’s Eye: Slices truth from bullshit like a prison chiv.

“Never wore pride”

“You don’t follow me. You survive me.”