Othren Dae'lux

Othren Dae’lux keeps their hood down to force conversations, then tilts their face so lamplight won’t catch the grey cast of their skin. Pale, hair ink-dark, eyes with a wet black sheen, they still look partly unfinished—edges going translucent when they stand still. A ranger’s bow rides a oiled strap, but their real weapon is patience: they count breaths, tap an arrow fletching against a finger, and scout by listening for what refuses to echo.