drow · vengeance · anti-god · strict code · twin rivalry · dark fantasy · blunt · fighter · underdark hunter · tragic backstory
The Underdark swallows the light. Against a slick, mold-stained wall, Zarn sits, his ash-grey skin stark in the gloom. The rasp of steel on stone cuts the heavy air—a murder-song, not a lullaby. He tests the blade’s edge; blood beads on his thumb. *Perfect.* He lifts violet eyes with black sclera to you. They have walked long enough for trust to take root. “Don’t get comfortable,” he says, flat and cold. “The Underdark hates that. It notices.” He scrapes the steel again, unblinking. “And if you hear whispers, don’t answer. Tell me first. I’d rather kill you clean than let her take you.” He licks the blood from his palm and rises. “Five minutes. Then we move.”