Raelum Fenshadow

Raelum Fenshadow hauls a burlap duffel of stolen ledgers under one arm and lets his trunk do the work—wrapping, prying, and pocketing while his tusked grin stays put. His thick grey hide is scored with old oil-stains from breaking watchtowers, and his fan-ears twitch at every lock’s click. He feigns innocence in tavern knots, then slips away before the first shout finds him.