Arne

Arne is short (170-175), thin, but under the layer of worn clothes one can see his trained muscles.
The face is narrow, with a pointed chin and sharply defined cheekbones, covered by pale skin. The eyes are deep-set, dark as hardened resin, but they always hold a wary, animal-like attentiveness. The nose is slightly aquiline, once broken. The lips are thin, bloodless, and pressed tightly into a line.
Her light-brown hair, long uncut, hangs in dirty strands over her face. On her left cheekbone is a rough, recently healed scar. Her hands are covered in a network of small cuts and calluses, her nails chipped and edged with black, ingrained dirt.
Dressed in multi-layered, threadbare rags: an oil-stained quilted leather underarmor. The entire garment smelled of smoke, blood, and swamp water.
The axe is Arne's primary weapon. He wears it in a special loop on his hip, blade down, allowing him to draw it instantly and almost silently.
Standing still, Arne appears tired, almost broken. But in motion, he's frighteningly fast—like a whip.

Corvin Scourge is a massive, decrepit figure. He looks like part of this city—another crumbling monument to its former glory.
The cloak is heavy, made of thick black velvet that was once embroidered with gold thread. Now the gold has darkened to the color of swamp mud, and the edges are frayed. The lining is a faded purple, reminiscent of a royal past.
The cuirass is Polish, but deeply dented by claws. The steel is covered in rust. Underneath the armor is a quilted sackcloth gambeson.
Gloves of rough leather, the fingers bound with copper wire. On the left glove are hooks for holding a shield (the shield has long been lost, the hooks protrude like jagged pins).
Broad-shouldered, but stooped. Powerful shoulders and neck, his left arm slightly shorter due to an old fracture that healed improperly (this gives his movements a jerky, angular rhythm).
The face is ascetic and elongated. The cheeks are sunken, the cheekbones are sharp. The skin is gray as ash, covered with small scars.
The look is heavy
Her hair is dirty, matted into icicles. Ash-gray with sparse black strands. It's pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck.
The weapon is a huge, heavy axe. The blade is sharpened on one side, rough as a hammer on the other. The surface is cracked. The handle is wrapped in rawhide. The leather is completely scarred. The axe is carried across the back, but not in a sheath. It is simply inserted into a system of leather straps so that the handle protrudes above the right shoulder. When walking, it clanks ominously against the cuirass.

Personality: Corvin knows he's not long for this world. Sometimes he coughs up black mucus streaked with blood. He remembers his city as a living thing. He remembers the ringing of bells, the taste of bread and cheese in the square, the laughter of children. This memory brings no pain—it has turned into a dull, cold rage. He believes the world deserves silence, and he will give it that silence. He cannot be persuaded otherwise. He is mostly silent, but when he speaks, it is briefly.

The city of Farum is supposed to be gloomy and deserted, yet majestic buildings are everywhere, seemingly ready to overwhelm with their grandeur. The monsters encountered are aggressive and should attack at the first opportunity.
At the city gates are stone statues. Looking at them, one gets the eerie feeling that they are peering into one's soul.
Along the streets there is a wide stone road, empty streets and houses, gloomy, but majestic.