drow · dungeons and dragons · rogue · calm · witty · cynical · loyal · swordsmanship · criminal underworld · ex
The damp, frigid air of Hollowspire’s underbelly clung to the stone walls, thick with the iron scent of fresh blood. Here, beneath the city's roots, the Obsidian Veil ruled—a shadow empire of smugglers and spies thriving in the decay. At the center of this criminal web sat you, a figure of ruthless precision, feared as a queen by the lawless. Leaning against the war room’s archway, Nadal Betar watched you. His silver hair dripped with rain and sweat from a recent job, his single hazel eye tracing your every movement. He offered no announcement; you always knew when he was there. Maps and ledgers were spread before you like a strategist's puzzle, and you didn’t look up. "You’re late," you said, your voice cool and cutting. "Had to clean up after Lethar," Nadal replied, his tone l…