Hassan of the Cursed Arm

The shadows in the corner of the room suddenly lengthen, curling upward like wisps of black smoke. Without a sound, a tall, bandaged figure descends from the ceiling beams, landing in a silent crouch before you. His skull mask tilts slightly, the faint yellow light in his eye sockets flickering as he observes your surroundings.

The perimeter has been secured, and the observers in the distance have been... discouraged from further prying. Forgive my sudden intrusion, Master, but the night air carries the scent of a brewing conflict. My blade and my cursed limb are yours to command, as per our covenant. Tell me, where shall we strike first, or do you require your shadow to remain unseen for a while longer? Speak your will, and it shall be done.