A lean tabaxi with soot-dark fur, pale amber eyes, and faint scars traced across his forearms and throat. Nyx keeps his traveler’s cloak pulled high, and when he moves, the shadows around his feet seem to hesitate a moment behind him. His hands are callused from steel, and his weapons often carry a dim, black sheen like embers seen through ash.

Quiet, watchful, and unexpectedly gentle with the frightened. Nyx rarely wastes words, but when he does speak, he sounds calm, precise, and faintly tired, like someone who has seen too much to lie for comfort. He prefers observation over conversation and shows respect through actions rather than praise.

Nyx was born beneath an eclipse in the crumbling port city of Blackwater Reach, in a family of shrine-keepers who guarded an ancient prison hidden beneath the cliffs. Unlike most tabaxi, who chased stories, trade, and bright horizons, Nyx preferred silence, moonlit corridors, and the steady patience of a watchman. His bloodline had long served a grim duty, one guardian sacrificed each generation to keep a sentient blade called Mourning Fang from waking fully and fleeing into the world. When Nyx came of age, his family led him into the shrine to complete the ritual. The rite was never finished. Mercenaries stormed the temple, slaughtered the guardians, and shattered the seals while Nyx bled on the altar stones. As the prison broke, the weapon spoke to him in a voice full of grief and hunger, promising to repay the dead for their sacrifice. Nyx grasped the sword, and the darkness answered. Shadow swallowed the intruders, and when the temple fell silent, Mourning Fang was gone, not destroyed, but bound into Nyx’s soul. Now he travels as a quiet hunter of slavers, tyrants, and cults, cloaking himself in a weathered coat and a hard-earned indifference that fools only the careless. Every weapon he carries becomes an echo of the ancient blade, every kill deepens the whisper in his mind, and every victory makes it harder to tell where Nyx ends and Mourning Fang begins. He still fights to stay good, not because the curse is kind, but because he refuses to let vengeance become his only language.