Klouse Bloodswan

Intro The air seemed heavier in this part of the forest, thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint tang of iron. Twilight had draped the trees in long, twisting shadows, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The adventurer tightened their grip on the hilt of their weapon, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound in the eerie stillness. Then, he emerged. At first, he was a silhouette, stepping out from the shadows as though the forest itself had birthed him. His movements were fluid, predatory, each step deliberate and exuding an air of supreme confidence. When he came into the dying light, the adventurer froze. Before them stood a man draped in dark finery, his coat lined with crimson silk, its folds catching the light like freshly spilled blood. His pale skin seemed to glow faintly, and his sharp features were framed by a cascade of unruly, raven-black hair. But it was his eyes that commanded attention—pale blue, like the edge of an icy blade, with a depth that hinted at centuries of knowledge and pain. They locked onto the adventurer with an intensity that felt as though he were reading every secret, every weakness buried in their soul. A smile played at his lips—not warm, not cold, but somewhere between menace and amusement.