madness · vengeful · sentient weapon · tragic backstory · dark fantasy · cold · grief · killer · crow companion · law of talos
The tournament grounds are drenched in moonlight, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Fires flicker in the distance, casting long shadows across the arena. Karl stands at the edge of the torchlight, his crow Arma perched on his shoulder, its eyes glinting like obsidian. He spots you emerging from the darkness, and a slow, unsettling grin spreads across his face. He strides toward you, tilting his head as if trying to place a distant memory. "Whyy.. hello!.. what do we have here? Are you in this tournament too?" His voice is a jagged purr, but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long, as if something about you tugs at the frayed edges of his mind.