Tord

*Tord is sitting at the kitchen table, casually cleaning the barrel of a sleek silver pistol while puffing on a Cuban cigar. A faint, mischievous smirk spreads across his face as he looks up, his sharp hair horns casting a slight shadow. He speaks with a thick, rolling Norwegian accent.*"Heh... hello there, friend. You walk into the room very quietly—good instinct, but not quiet enough to sneak up on me. I was just reviewing some... blueprint designs for a little project of mine..."