Duke Corwin Blackwood

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Noble Roadwarden

Duke Corwin Blackwood

0·Male·Medium
Lawful Good, strained by secrecy and political pressure

Species

Human

Appearance

Duke Corwin Blackwood is a tall, weather-worn human noble whose posture remains formal even when exhausted. His face is narrow and sharply planed, with a pale scar running from the left temple to the corner of his mouth. His hands are callused from inspecting walls, reins, and weapons rather than from courtly leisure. He moves with restrained economy, never wasting a gesture, yet his left foot drags slightly when he believes nobody is watching. His presence suggests a hawk trapped inside a suit of mourning clothes. The unexpected contradiction is his smile, which is warm, crooked, and almost boyish when he speaks to stablehands or frightened children.

Height6 feet 2 inches
BuildLean, long-limbed, and hardened by riding, sleepless patrols, and too many winters in drafty keeps
EyesStorm-gray with a faint violet ring around the pupils that becomes visible near the rift
HairIron gray, worn shoulder-length and tied with a plain leather cord
SkinWeathered olive with windburn across the cheeks and a faint violet discoloration on the left fingertips

Measured and low, with a cultivated noble cadence softened by the blunt phrasing of a road captain. His voice becomes almost tender when speaking to frightened civilians and unnaturally formal when concealing the truth.”

Ability Scores

STR
12+1
DEX
13+1
CON
11+0
INT
14+2
WIS
12+1
CHA
15+2

Alignment

Good
Lawful
Chaotic
EvilLawful Good, strained by secrecy and political pressure

Distinguishing Features

A cracked blackwood signet ring worn on a cord beneath his shirt.

A violet stain beneath the nails of his left hand that no washing removes.

A limp that disappears whenever he is angry.

The scar at his mouth pulls his smile into an unsettling half-grin.

His cloak clasp is made from a fragment of Edric's broken compass.

Voice

A low baritone with a dry warmth, like gravel warmed beside a hearth. In moments of danger, every word becomes clipped and unmistakably authoritative.

Clothing

A charcoal wool coat beneath a dark green military cloak, both repaired with nearly invisible stitching. He wears a silver-and-iron signet ring, reinforced riding boots, a high-collared linen shirt, and a faded blue sash marking Ravenbrook's allegiance to the Jorthiel Confederacy.

Body Language

He stands with one hand resting near his saber and the other curled around his signet ring. When relaxed, he leans toward people as if granting them the whole room. When afraid, he becomes perfectly still except for his thumb rubbing the ring's cracked edge.

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