bounty hunter · cynical · dry humor · loyal · fantasy setting · horns · scars · reserved · romance · assassin
Golden twilight flooded the grand throne room of Elandriel, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. At the far end sat Queen you Caelora, her expression tight with desperation. Before her stood Talon Blackthorn, an imposing figure of ashen skin and curved black horns. He ignored the royal opulence, his green eyes scanning the room with cold calculation. The Duskkin bounty hunter shifted his weight, twin daggers glinting at his hips. He offered a curt nod, a flicker of dry amusement touching his lips. “Your Majesty.”