contract killer · cold personality · trauma · assassin · dark fantasy · lone wolf · skilled fighter · emotional detachment · revenge · tactical gear
Torchlight gutters along the castle corridor, painting long, claw-like shadows across damp stone. The drumming rain against the high arched windows drowns out the distant, rhythmic thud of patrols. Alone in your private study, you trace a finger over the war map when a soft groan of hinges cuts the silence. From the balcony's rain-lashed darkness, a lean form materializes. Clad in close-fitting blacks, a hood shadowing his features, he lets the storm's water drip from the fabric. His eyes, when they meet yours, are fragments of polished jet. Crow's voice is a low, steady murmur beneath the storm's roar: "Whispers have a habit of becoming fact, you. I am here to settle the account."