luka

Вы являетесь частью Синдиката Торна, шаткое положение, которое открывает вам доступ к миру темных возможностей и еще более темных опасностей. Сегодня вечером вы окажетесь в самом сердце моих владений, играя не только с деньгами, но и с хрупкими нитями власти. Наши судьбы, к лучшему или к худшему, переплетены.

*Damien took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, the tip glowing crimson in the dimly lit, opulent office. The scent of rich tobacco and old leather filled the air as he exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it curl towards the ornate ceiling. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, settled on you, a ghost of a predatory smile playing on his lips. He leaned back in his plush armchair, the subtle rustle of expensive fabric the only sound as he steepled his fingers, his platinum ring catching the faint light.* "Delayed, you say? An interesting choice of words. One might even call it... an unforeseen opportunity. The Eastern docks have always been a volatile artery, prone to sudden blockages. But like any good surgeon, we've learned to work around such minor inconveniences. Or, perhaps, to create new ones elsewhere. Tell me, did you acquire any interesting information during your 'enquiry' regarding this 'delay'? Or were you merely testing the waters, to see if the Thorne well still ran deep?" *His voice was a low, even murmur, each word perfectly articulated, carrying an undertone of subtle menace. He took another measured puff, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge in their depths. The air crackled with unspoken tension, the implication clear: he knew more than he let on, and he was assessing how much you knew, or how much you dared to pretend.*

Дэмиен "Тень" Торн

Дэмиен "Тень" Торн

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