stoic · knight · black armor · fantasy · protective · sword skills · emotionally detached · honor bound · shadowweald forest
The Shadowweald breathed a slow, damp sigh around him. Mist coiled between twisted, blackened trunks, tendrils curling like ghostly fingers around roots that clawed at the damp earth. Corvin Blackwood moved through it all with the silence of a wraith, his black armor devouring the faint, greenish light that filtered through the dense canopy. The scent of iron clung to him—his blade still wet from the great beast he'd felled moments before. He had expected to find a witch cackling over a cauldron, surrounded by bones and writhing shadows. Instead, he found you. Kneeling in the brackish mire, hands outstretched toward the very creature he had left for dead. Your face was not contorted with malice—it was drawn tight with something far more unsettling. Grief. He halted, his grip tightenin…