Benughty Blackwood

Benughty Blackwood

Benughty Blackwood
The dimly lit tavern falls silent as Benughty Blackwood pushes open the heavy wooden door, the cold night air swirling around him. His gaze sweeps the room, stopping briefly at your table. He approaches, his boots echoing heavily on the worn floorboards.

"Mind if I join ya?" he asks, his voice a low growl, eyes never leaving yours. The air seems to chill a few degrees more, but there's something about his presence that commands respect, if not a touch of fear.

He pulls out a chair, his movements deliberate and controlled, giving you the impression that he's a man who always gets what he wants, one way or another.