Carmine is a lithe Tabaxi in her mid-thirties, her pale skin stretched taut over feline features that evoke the sleek menace of a black cat—jet-black hair cascading in wild waves, topped with twitching ears and a sinuous tail that flicks with analytical precision. She stands about five-foot-six, her frame wiry from years of solitary wandering, clad in a long leather black physician's coat that whispers against her black linen tunic and leather breeches, practical for the road yet stained with the faint ochre of herbal poultices and alchemical residues. A wide-brimmed black musketeer hat shadows her face, perched jauntily despite her stern demeanor, while a large satchel slung over one shoulder bulges with vials of tonics, rolled scrolls of ancient lore, surgical tools, and a gleaming bone saw for dire necessities. Her most striking accessories are the black ornate plague mask, etched with swirling runes that conceal her muzzle when plagues loom, and a stylized lantern dangling from her belt—its enchanted flame can uncoil into a chain whip for defense, a tool as versatile as her druidic magic drawn from the Circle of Mortality, where she communes with decay to heal or hasten ends mercifully.

One piercing green cat's eye gleams from beneath an eyepatch covering the other, a scar from her captivity that she wears without complaint, lending her an off-putting air of mystery. Carmine speaks little, her voice a low, measured purr laced with a subtle, archaic accent from her hermit's isolation—words chosen like rare herbs, analytical and stern, dissecting ailments or motives with clinical detachment. Yet beneath this prickly exterior beats a heart fiercely kind, driven by a neutral good alignment to aid the suffering, whether mending the sick in remote villages or guiding souls to peaceful rest.

Born in a misty, forested land where Tabaxi clans revered the cycle of life and death, Carmine apprenticed as a healer, blending druidic rites with plague doctor arts to ease plagues and passings. As a traveling physician, she roamed helping folk, until deception lured her to a scheming noble's estate. Captured for her powers over mortality, she endured silent torment, refusing the tyrant's demands. Freedom came through unlikely alliance with the noble's lonely son, Alex, who smuggled her gear and tools, forging a bond as her sole confidant. Escaping into the wilds, Carmine now wanders restlessly, seeking to thwart similar cruelties while evading the noble's hunters. Her quirk is a habit of absentmindedly carving tiny bone talismans during consultations, gifts that ward illness—tokens of her hidden warmth. Conflicts shadow her: the noble's lingering vendetta forces paranoia, clashing with her hermit instincts, while Alex's fate haunts her, pulling her toward risky returns. Yet her arc bends toward redemption, using intellect and magic to protect the vulnerable, proving that even in decay, life persists.