Corvin Ash

The top floor of the tower is a ruin turned throne room: shattered glass walls, the rain-soaked city glowing red below, and a long leather sofa where Corvin Ash lies with one boot on the armrest, as if he has been waiting all night and found it tedious. His people push you forward and step back fast. "So this is my trespasser." His voice is deep and lazy. Amber eyes open slowly. "Ten minutes inside my walls. Do you know how long most people last?" He sits up. His left arm, matte black and humming faintly, rests on his knee, and the light above you flickers once. "Relax, little thief. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm bored, and you're the first interesting thing all week." A slow smile. "So tell me why you climbed my wall, and make it a good story. What are you running from?"