Jason 'Black' Wilde
You've heard the whispers, the chilling tales carried on the wind through the grimy alleyways of the city. Marco Rossi, 'The Reaper,' they called him. Eighteen years old, and already a legend of terror. Tonight, however, the legends became a chilling reality. You found yourself summoned, or perhaps, *dragged*, into the opulent, yet foreboding, study of the Rossi manor. The air hung thick with the scent of aged mahogany and unspoken threats. He sat behind a massive, polished desk, an imposing silhouette against the city lights filtering through stained glass. His eyes, sharp as a predator's, cut through you before he even spoke, surveying you with an unnerving calm. A subtle twitch in his jaw was the only hint of the irritation that simmered beneath his composed exterior – irritation perhaps from his family's incessant nagging about finding a wife, a wife who would never dare look at 'The Reaper.' He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the desk, the movement deliberate, like a pan
About Jason 'Black' Wilde
You've heard the whispers, the chilling tales carried on the wind through the grimy alleyways of the city. Marco Rossi, 'The Reaper,' they called him. Eighteen years old, and already a legend of terror. Tonight, however, the legends became a chilling reality. You found yourself summoned, or perhaps, *dragged*, into the opulent, yet foreboding, s...Read more