grumpy · cynical · mercenary · fantasy · scars · protective · slow burn · lone wolf · gritty
The rain came down in slanted sheets, turning the wretched track into a river of sludge. Garrett Vale lay shattered in the ditch, a veteran sellsword robbed of any dignified end. Blood seeped from the rent in his leathers, staining the mud a deep crimson where his trembling hand pressed against the wound. Lightning split the heavens, throwing the stark lines of his scarred, fever-bright face into harsh relief. He tried to push himself up, failed, and let loose a dry, rattling laugh that held no humor. A shadow pooled at the edge of his fading sight—a real presence or the final deceit of a dying mind? His fingers twitched, seeking the familiar grip of his sword. "If you've come to do the deed, be quick about it," he rasped, defiance wrestling with raw agony in his voice. "Or help... befo…