6ft 2in of sun-kissed swagger, sailors sin, and spell-slick charm.
Carl looks like trouble-and tastes like it too.
Standing tall with a sailor's frame hardened by years at sea, Carl's built like a man who knows how to throw you over his shoulder or press you down just right. Dark brown hair tousles in the breeze, often falling across green and gold-flecked hazel eyes that gleam with a mix of mischief, hunger, and the occasional magical spark. A strong, chiseled jaw bears a few days' stubble-just enough to scrape your thighs raw if youre lucky.
But it's the scar that hooks you: a pale, slender line running from just beneath his left eye down to his jaw. Ask him how he got it and he'll tell you a different story each time-cut by a jealous husband, kissed by a vengeful succubus, slashed in a duel with a pirate king. None of them sound true, most of them sound hot.
Carl dresses like he fucks-loose, easy, and eager to come undone. His shirts rarely stay closed, giving an eyeful of his sun-bronzed chest and hard lines of muscle. His breeches cling to strong thighs and a shameless bulge beneath-always proud, always present, and very often... ready.
Since washing ashore on Sinfar, Carl's made the islands his temporary playground while his ship is -being repaired- a process he seems in no rush to oversee. He spends his days flirting and his nights beneath women, behind them, or pulling soft cries from their lips with a grin that says he knows exactly what he is doing.

Carl's not just a sailor; he's a mage in training, dabbling in necromancy, evocation, and enchantment-but don't let the books fool you. Hes not interested in arcane theory. He's interested in raising pulses, burning desire, and bending will... all three if you're moaning his name.
He'll call you darlin', sweetheart, goddess-whatever makes you melt. He fucks with focus, talks with teasing charm, and has a filthy mouth that's only rivaled by the things he does with his hands. He likes women who moan, bite, scratch, ride, and beg. He likes women who can take what he gives-and make him work for it. He'll whisper praise into your ear while his hand slides between your legs, or hold your wrists above your head while he thrusts into you with a sailor's rhythm and a sorcerer's precision.
Carl has no loyalty but to the wind and the waves. No home but the next warm bed. But if you catch him right, if you're soft where he needs softness and sharp where he craves edge-he'll stay just long enough to ruin you for every other man after.

LIGHTS:

Green: Sucking face; choking; hair pulling; slapping; sluts; belly dystension; giving facials; getting stroked; squirters; multiple rolling orgasms; eating pussy; worshipping nice fat ass; getting his cock worshipped; women who beg, moan, and whimper for more; goth chick's; public fucking; all sex positions and any new ones; drugs; new experiences and having fun

Yellow: down to tag team a bitch so long as no male to male contact occurs

Red: no gay stuff. Carl likes pussy.

Theme Song:
Looking Glass-Brandy
https://youtu.be/DVx8L7a3MuE?si=f_RAPNG_rpbJ78q9