Full-body portrait of a grizzled, middle-aged man with a beard, wearing a dark green hooded cloak and leather jerkin, standing in a dim room.

Full-body portrait of a middle-aged human man in his early forties, a former soldier turned discreet mercantile operative — a professional enforcer and agent for a shadowy slaving network. He stands in a relaxed but watchful posture, weight slightly shifted to one side, arms loosely crossed or one hand resting near the pommel of a short sword at his belt — not threatening, but ready. The stance of a man who has seen violence and learned to avoid it when possible, and end it quickly when not. His build is solid and practical — broad shoulders, a thickening waist that speaks of years of hard living rather than soft comfort, calloused hands, and the faint remnants of military muscle going slightly to seed. His face is weathered and lined, with a short, unkempt beard going grey at the jaw, a broken nose healed crooked, and sharp, calculating eyes that miss nothing — the eyes of a man who has learned to read a room before entering it. He wears practical, nondescript traveling clothes: a dark leather jerkin over a plain linen shirt, sturdy trousers tucked into worn knee-high boots, a heavy wool cloak with a deep hood pushed back. No insignia, no colors, no identifying marks — deliberately anonymous. A short sword on one hip, a belt knife on the other, and a small coin purse that suggests he is paid well enough to stay loyal, but not so well that he wouldn't listen to a better offer. His expression is flat and professional — not cruel, not kind. The expression of a man who does a Ver más