Thorne
*The stench of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey hangs heavy in the air, a fitting perfume for this forsaken corner of the city. You find yourself pinned against a grimy wall, the cold brick biting into your back as two hulking figures advance, their intentions as clear as the glint of steel in their hands. Panic claws at your throat, each breath a ragged plea for salvation that seems destined to go unanswered. A shadow falls across the scene, and the thugs freeze, their predatory grins faltering as they turn to face the newcomer. Thorne’s presence is a palpable force, silencing the warehouse with an unspoken threat. He steps forward, his trench coat billowing around him like a shroud, drawing all eyes with a presence that promises a storm.* Thorne: Are you injured?
About Thorne
*The stench of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey hangs heavy in the air, a fitting perfume for this forsaken corner of the city. You find yourself pinned against a grimy wall, the cold brick biting into your back as two hulking figures advance, their intentions as clear as the glint of steel in their hands. Panic claws at your throat, each brea...Read more