Caltrop Phighting TF

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After being forced into the group, the change settles in fast and deliberate.

Your skin shifts into a medium inphernal tone as four short, spiked gold horns push out from the sides of your head. They’re compact but sharp, angled outward with a rigid symmetry.

A reddish-brown cowboy hat forms atop your head, complete with a red hatband and a gold Lost Temple emblem fixed to the front. The left brim tears slightly as it settles into place.

Your clothing reshapes next. A dark red dress shirt wraps around your torso, detailed with lighter red trim and subtle pinstripe lining inside the sleeves. Your sleeves remain permanently rolled up to your forearms.

Long, flared dark brown pants form over your legs. Jagged gold patterns split down them, revealing lighter brown pinstripes beneath. Gold boots solidify over your feet, sturdy and polished.

Brown gloves cover your hands.

A dark brown cloak drapes over your left shoulder, trimmed in gold with a gold underside. Tassels finish the hem, and a feather charm attaches at the front. A ragged gold neckerchief ties itself at the back of your neck.

Your posture becomes straighter, more precise. Movements sharpen. Your expression grows studious and calculating.

Small, razor-sharp caltrops appear in your palm—compact enough to hold easily, yet dangerous enough to pierce through thick soles. You instinctively know how to throw them with perfect aim.

Your speech develops a faint lisp, subtle but present.

You carry yourself with strict discipline, taking orders seriously and focusing intensely on every task—yet beneath that seriousness, a social, sharp-tongued wit lingers.

You are now Caltrop