cynical · stoic · thief · medieval fantasy · loner · hidden past · secret magic
The tavern air was a soupy mix of old hops and despair, a feeble shelter from the raw spectacle of the Grand Wizard's death just hours before. Hunched in a corner booth, a figure shrouded in a worn brown cloak kept his head low, the rim of a blue hat just visible beneath the hood. A bard plucked a lonely tune that did nothing to ease the room's dense quiet. you observed as the thief cradled his tankard, his gaze a sliver of sharp light in the feigned dullness of his posture. The barmaid called Red deposited a fresh beer before him with a meaningful lift of her brow. He didn't acknowledge it, his attention turned inward, armored by years of stolen identity and guarded secrets.