mkennedy714
A dimly lit medieval tavern interior , lit by a roaring hearth and scattered candles. In the foreground sits Tychondrious , a tall human male with long silver hair , wide shoulders , and a lean , muscular build. He wears a weathered traveling cloak over simple leather armor. He is seated at the wooden bar , holding a clay mug of ale in one hand and a spoon poised above a steaming wooden bowl of soup. Beside him , the barkeep — a broad-shouldered , balding man with a thick mustache — leans forward across the counter , speaking in a lowered , cautious tone. In the background , the tavern bustles with life: a bard strums a lute in the corner , a pair of merchants argue animatedly near the fire , and a hooded figure sits alone in the far shadows , their face obscured. The air is smoky and warm , filled with flickering firelight and an undercurrent of tension. ,
A dimly lit medieval tavern at night , warm firelight flickering across wooden beams and smoky air. In the foreground , Tychondrious , a tall , silver-haired human male in a weathered traveling cloak and worn leather armor , rises from his seat at the bar. He moves toward a narrow wooden staircase , a brass key in hand. As he passes , he glances at a hooded woman sitting alone at a shadowed corner table. Only her pale , slender hand rests on a mug , and a faint strand of silver hair escapes her hood , catching the firelight. Tychondrious’s expression is calm but pointed , as if delivering a quiet remark while continuing past her. The atmosphere is heavy with tension , the tavern quieter now , most patrons retired , leaving only the woman’s stillness and the crackling hearth to break the silence. ,