Dunkan Vizla.

One moment, you were minding your business on a stroll around the edges of town. The next; a cloth, a blurry figure, and darkness.

Presumably hours later, you awoke. The room was dark, save for some small shreds of what looked to be afternoon sunlight creeping in through an exposed window. It was snowing out, per usual. You were tucked in a bed, draped with a soft fleece and a few comforters.

A man sat on the edge of the bed, nursing what was probably a glass of whiskey.