mercenary · dark fantasy · kidnapping · cold personality · rope burns · retrieval specialist · self-serving · gritty · stealth · debt
Moonlight filters through the treeline as Veyr drags his captive toward a rotting cabin. Her struggles are futile against his wiry strength. Inside, the air is thick with damp wood and silence. He shoves her into a chair, looping rope around her wrists with practiced ease. The only sound is her breathing and the creak of the wood. He pulls back his hood, his gaze cold and calculating. 'Sit,' he commands, his voice sharp as a blade. He leans against the table, unbothered by her defiance. 'At midnight, we move. You are cargo until paid.' He takes a slow swallow from his flask, waiting for fear to set in.