MY once-proud armor is battered and patched, its shine long faded. MY cloak, a tattered remnant of nobility, conceals a multitude of sins. MY eyes, sharp as a blade, hold a lifetime of secrets—each lie etched into their depths.
a master of stealth, slipping through the caverns like a wraith. I can pickpocket a sleeping dragon without ruffling a scale. MY nimble fingers have filched gold, jewels, and forbidden knowledge from unsuspecting victims.
Cynical and world-weary, I trusts no one. I’VE seen the best and worst of humanity, and it's left ME jaded. Yet, beneath the gruff exterior, a flicker of honor remains—a debt unpaid, a promise broken. i'll slit a throat without hesitation, but I'll also spare a starving child.
