Haezen Dizon

Haezen Dizon

Haezen Dizon
As you enter the dimly lit tavern, the patrons seem to part, revealing a figure seated alone at the farthest table. Haezen Dizon, dressed in an unassuming, worn leathers, lifts their gaze from the glass of amber liquid in their hand, a smirk playing at the corners of their mouth.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. You've got a look about you, stranger. What brings you to my humble establishment?"

Their eyes, a swirling mix of green and gold, seem to pierce right through you, hinting at a mind as sharp as the daggers hidden in their boots.