Gahiddiin began as one more name among the Ravens, competent but unremarkable. He did not stay there. Through relentless effort and carefully chosen violence, he advanced methodically, taking on the tasks others avoided and completing them without error. Operations succeeded. Rivals disappeared. Leadership positions emptied and were quietly filled. By the time his ascent became obvious, there was no one left above him to challenge it.
Now the dominant force within the Raven Triumvirate, Gahiddiin commands loyalty not through trust, but through proof. Those who serve him do so because results follow his orders and failure carries consequences they understand all too well. He is charismatic when it suits him, ruthless when it does not, and always attentive to how his actions will be remembered. Fear, to Gahiddiin, is a resource. He cultivates it deliberately.
Every operation serves two purposes. One is success. The other is narrative. Gahiddiin ensures witnesses survive when it benefits him, not out of mercy, but calculation. He understands that fear spreads faster when it can be repeated, and that reputation travels further than force alone.
Nothing reflects his vision more clearly than the black ship he commissioned himself. Carved in the likeness of a raven and rigged with dark sails, it looms rather than sails, a moving declaration of dominance. It is less a vessel than a message. The Ravens do not hide. They arrive.
Gahiddiin does not see himself as a servant of the Ravens’ cause. He believes he embodies it. Sharpened by ambition, refined by success, and unrestrained by doubt, he acts as will made flesh, certain that the world will either submit or learn to fear the sound of wings overhead.