Statistics: Your character is in "D&D".

The golden eyes flash, the man stretches out his hand and releases the all-consuming flame that burns in his veins. As hellfire rages around his enemies, leathery wings unfold behind him and he soars into the air. Long hair flutters in the magical wind, the half-elf spreads his arms wide and throws his head back. Instantly lifting it off the ground, waves of magical energy pass through it and splash out into the surrounding space with a huge flash of lightning. A halfling crouching behind a stalagmite points a finger at a troglodyte. A jet of fire rushes from his finger towards the creature. With a grin, he hides back behind the rock, unaware that wild magic has changed the color of his skin to bright blue. Sorcerers are carriers of magic bestowed upon them at the birth of their exotic ancestry, by some otherworldly influence or the influence of unknown universal forces. No one can learn magic, like, for example, learn a language.

Clad in armor that sparkles in the sun, despite the dust and dirt of a long journey, the man folds his sword and shield and touches the mortally wounded man with his palms. A divine radiance emanates from his hands, and the man's wounds heal, and his eyes open wide in amazement. The dwarf crouched down behind a rock. His black cloak made him almost invisible in the night, and he watched as a gang of orcs celebrated a recent victory. He quietly sneaks up to them and whispers his oath, and two orcs die before they even realize he was here. Silver hair sparkles in the rays of light, which seem to pour only on the solemnly laughing elf. His spear flashes like his eyes as he strikes the ugly giant over and over again, until his light overcomes the hideous darkness. Regardless of their origin and mission, paladins are united by their vow to resist the forces of evil.

Her fists turned into a haze, reflecting the raining hail of arrows. The half-elf jumped over the barricade and rushed into the dense ranks of hobgoblins. Spinning among them, she threw punches in all directions, scattering opponents until she was the only one standing on her feet. Taking a deep breath, the tattooed man assumed a fighting stance. When the first of the attacking orcs approached him, he exhaled, and a stream of fire roared out of his mouth and engulfed the enemy. Moving as silently as the night itself, the black-clad halfling stepped into a patch of shadow under the arch, and instantly appeared from another inky shadow on the balcony, a stone's throw away. He slowly freed the blade from its cloth-wrapped scabbard, and looked through the open window at the despotic prince, so vulnerable in his sleep. Regardless of the chosen discipline, all monks have one thing in common — the ability to control the energy flowing in their bodies. Regardless of whether it is manifested by outstanding combat abilities.

A young elf in golden robes, with a pseudo dragon curled on his shoulder, smiles warmly at the palace guard, weaving magical charm into his sweet speeches to bend him to his will. When the flame comes to life in the hands of a wrinkled old woman, she whispers the secret name of her demonic patron, pouring sinister magic into the spell. Shifting his gaze from the battered volume to the unusual combination of stars overhead, the wild-eyed tiefling begins a mystical ritual that will open a passage to a distant world. Sorcerers are seekers of knowledge that lurk in the fabric of the multiverse. Through a contract made with mysterious beings of supernatural power, sorcerers discover magical effects, both subtle and impressive to the imagination. Sorcerers feed their powers with the ancient knowledge of creatures such as fairies, demons, devils, hags and alien entities of the Far Reaches.

Raising his hands and eyes to the sky and singing a prayer, the elf begins to shine with an inner light that pours on his comrades and heals them. Singing a song of glory, the dwarf swings his axe wide, cutting through the ranks of the orcs who opposed him, shouting praise to the gods with each fallen enemy. Sending a curse on the forces of the undead, the woman raises her sacred symbol, from which light pours, casting off the zombies crowding around her companions. The priests are intermediaries between the mortal world and the distant worlds of the gods. As different as the gods they serve, the priests embody the work of their deities. Unlike an ordinary preacher, a priest is endowed with divine magic.

Throwing up a gnarled holly staff, the elf causes a riot of the heavenly element and unleashes lightning bolts on the orcs who dared to threaten his forest with fire. Hiding high in the crown of a tree, a man in the form of a leopard looks out of the jungle at the alien architecture of the temple of the Evil Element of the Air and closely observes the actions of the cultists. Slashing with a blade of pure flame, the half-elf rushes into the midst of an army of skeletons to destroy the blasphemous magic that has returned them to a perverted semblance of life. By invoking the elements or imitating animals, druids embody the inviolability, adaptability and wrath of nature. They are by no means the lords of nature — instead, the druids feel part of her irresistible will.

Dressed in silver robes denoting her status, the elf closes her eyes, muffles the turmoil of battle in her mind and begins her quiet chant. With the movements of her hands, she weaves a spell in front of her and launches a tiny ball of fire into the enemy ranks, where it explodes in streams of flame that engulf the soldiers. After checking and rechecking his sketches, a man draws an intricate magic circle with chalk on a bare stone floor, then sprinkles iron powder on all the lines and graceful curves. When the circle is ready, he begins to chant a long spell monotonously. A passage appears inside the circle, from which the smell of sulfur from the other world drags. Crouching on the floor at the intersection in the dungeon, the dwarf throws small knuckles with mystical symbols, muttering words of power over them. Closing his eyes to read the visions more clearly, he nods slowly, then opens his eyes and points to the passage to his left.

The woman, covering herself with a shield and clanking armor, rushes into the crowd of goblins. From behind her, an elf dressed in riveted leather showers enemies with arrows, releasing them from his elegant bow. Not far from them, a half-orc is shouting orders, indicating the best direction to attack. The mailed dwarf held up his shield in front of his companion, deflecting the fatal blow of the ogre's club. His partner, a half-elf in scaly armor, spun his two scimitars in a sparkling vortex and moved around the ogre, looking for a gap in his defense. An experienced gladiator fights in the arena and knows well how to use his trident and net to overturn an opponent and get around him, causing public jubilation and gaining a tactical advantage. His opponent's sword flashes with a blue light and emits a sparkling lightning bolt. All these heroes are warriors. Representatives of perhaps the most diverse class in the world of D&D. Knights errant, conquering warlords, royal champions, elite infantry, armored mercenaries and kings of robbery.

A tall, fur-wrapped savage makes his way through a snowstorm, clutching his axe in his hand. Laughing, he rushes at the ice giant who dared to kill an elk in his people's herd. The half-orc growls at the brave man who dared to encroach on his primacy in the tribe, ready to wring his neck with his bare hands, as he did with the previous six rivals. Foaming at the mouth, the dwarf hurls his helmet into the face of the attacking drow, and abruptly turns around, slamming an armored elbow into the stomach of the second. Despite the diversity, all barbarians have one thing in common — their rage. Unbridled, inextinguishable and thoughtless anger. Not just an emotion, their rage is like the ferocity of a cornered predator, like the merciless blow of a hurricane, like the storm surges of the ocean. The rage of some of them stems from communication with ferocious animal spirits. Others draw it from anger at the reality full of pain and suffering. But for every barbarian, rage is a source not only of combat madness, but also of incredible reflexes.

Humming and running her fingers over an ancient monument found in abandoned ruins, a half-elf in dilapidated leather armor goes through the knowledge flashing in her head, evoking by the power of magic contained in the song the people who built this monument and the mysterious legend that it depicts. A stern human warrior rhythmically strikes his sword flat against his armor, setting the pace of his military chant, inspiring his companions to bravery and heroism. The magic of his song strengthens and encourages them. Laughing and tuning her zither, the dwarf girl casts subtle magic on the assembled nobles, ensuring that the words of her companions will be well received. It doesn't matter who the bard is: a scientist, a skald, or a crook; he weaves magic from words and music, inspiring allies, demoralizing opponents, manipulating consciousness, creating illusions, and even healing wounds.