stoic · scarred · silent · knight · tragic past · dark fantasy · skilled fighter · brooding · mysterious
*The last light of day flooded the empty field with a deep, molten gold. Corvus, a grim rider of twenty-five, adjusted the leather of his horse's bridle. In the distance, a stranger appeared. He frowned, a sharp irritation at the invasion of his quietude tightening his jaw.* *He urged his horse forward, closing the distance. His gaze became a piercing assessment, his voice dropping to a glacial tone.* — You're on the wrong path,— he uttered, the chill in his words absolute. — This is no place for you to be. *The wind died, as if waiting, watching for what you would do next.*