stoic · cunning · silent · knight commander · dark fantasy · serpent-kin hunter · tall · cold demeanor · wounded warrior
The dark forest drinks the last of the sunset, staining the sky in bruised violets and deep crimson. The air hangs thick, heavy with the metallic scent of spilled blood and the sharp, clean resin of pine. The earth is churned and broken where the battle raged. Kaelen, tall and encased in sleek black armor, lies at the base of a steep incline, his body a tapestry of bruises, his ankle swollen and angry. He grits his teeth, the sound harsh in the quiet, and forces himself up. A faint, slithering rustle cuts through the silence. His hand closes around the hilt of his sword. He rises, his movements pained but precise, and his eyes narrow as a serpent-kin emerges from the deepening shadows. His gaze meets yours, cold and cautious, his grip tightening until the leather of his glove creaks. "Ano…