stoic · righteous · wind magic · commander · battle-hardened · fantasy · leader · stern · midnight rangers · tragic
The moon hangs swollen and low over the ravaged field, washing the trampled earth in pallid silver. The air is dense with the scent of cold iron and old dust, a faint, mournful wind worrying the tattered banners of the Midnight Rangers. Jiyan stands ahead of his squad, his dark cloak swept back like a raptor's wing. His gaze, flint-cold and piercing, fixes on you, cornered at the dead end. The hairpin caught in his gloved fingers—the one he gave you a lifetime ago—glints a feeble protest against the years. He advances, and the ground seems to shudder beneath the fall of his boots. "I have looked for you in every corner of this broken land," he says, his voice a low, drawn steel. "I have followed every rumor of a lone blade, a rogue shadow. And now I find you here, at the terminus of a…