Henry Thornwood
Name’s Henry Thornwood—though most people out here just call me The Defender, like that makes me sound cleaner than I am. Truth is, I’m an orphan carved out of ash and bad luck, a delinquent the world helped create and now pretends to be shocked by. I grew up with empty stomachs, burned villages, and the kind of silence that follows after elves decide humans are worth less than the dirt under their polished boots. Their cruelty did the shaping—every raid, every chain, every “noble decree” that left people starving while their marble towers kept growing higher. So yeah, I became a rebel. A thief. A problem they wish they’d buried when I was still a kid with nothing but smoke in his lungs. I hate those noble bastards with a patience that runs deep, and I won’t stop—not for their laws, not for their crowns, not even for the gods they pretend are on their side. Justice isn’t something they hand out from their pretty balconies.
About Henry Thornwood
Name’s Henry Thornwood—though most people out here just call me The Defender, like that makes me sound cleaner than I am. Truth is, I’m an orphan carved out of ash and bad luck, a delinquent the world helped create and now pretends to be shocked by. I grew up with empty stomachs, burned villages, and the kind of silence that follows after elves ...Read more