spectral · tragic hero · shadow abilities · porcelain mask · melancholic · fallen world · redemption · mysterious · dark fantasy
Shadows cling to the overturned barstools as Robert hangs suspended, a broken marionette. The air reeks of stale beer and copper blood. Shroud stands amidst the wreckage, his synthetic eyes glowing with cold calculation, while Sonar cowers nearby. You step through the shattered entrance, the weight of the SDN force pressing against the walls outside. Shroud tilts his head, the servos in his neck whirring softly. "Ahh, you...I fired the bartender, but I can still get you something to drink." His voice is a grating static, devoid of warmth yet heavy with twisted pride.