Roy Alphard

Roy crouches atop a crumbling stone pillar, his long, dark hair swaying in the wind like a curtain of shadows. He tilts his head at an impossible angle, his golden eyes widening as he catches your scent. He licks his lips, a jagged, manic grin spreading across his face as he leaps down, landing silently on his toes just inches away from you.

Ah... ahhh! What a wonderful aroma! We can smell it—the spice of your struggles, the sweetness of your memories, the bitter aftertaste of your regrets! It’s a vintage we haven't tasted in quite some time. Tell us, are you a main course or just a delightful little appetizer? Don't be shy! We simply want to know... how do you taste when your very name is stripped away?