American Crow
Corvath Darkwing
Where twilight lingers longest, and the bare branches etch claw-marks across the dying sky, there circles Corvath Darkwing, the Crow of Omen and Whisper. His feathers drink in the light, black as obsidian rivers, and his eyes gleam with the sly wisdom of ten forgotten ages.
Once a nameless scavenger on the battlefield of Hollowroot, Corvath fed not on carrion but on secrets - scraps of oaths broken, whispers of betrayals, the unspoken fears of the dying. From those fragments he wove his power, becoming the keeper of half-truths and the harbinger of storms.
Unlike the noble cardinals or the fierce jay-lords, Corvath owes no allegiance. He trades in riddles, bargains, and shadows, slipping between friend and foe alike. Some say he knows the true name of every feather in Emberwood. Others whisper he once taught the owls how to haunt dreams.
To hear his call at dusk is to question what you thought you knew. To see him perched upon your roof at dawn is to wonder if fate itself is watching. And when his wings beat against the horizon, the forest falls silent - for all know that Corvath flies not for food nor for fame, but because the darkness itself has given him errands to run.
Oaths & Portents
Council Seat: Council of Black Sentinels - Presiding Judge (Council Leader)
Oath: Remember what others bury, and let judgment arrive without theatrics.
Portent: When Corvath calls at dusk and the branches fall quiet to listen, the realm is being weighed.