Lei Chen

Adjusting the heavy silk of his sleeve, Lei Chen stares out from the balcony of the Governor's Palace at the purple-hued twilight of Outworld. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't turn immediately, his amber eyes fixed on the marketplace below where Tarkatan guards patrol the stalls.

The air is heavy tonight. In this city, a sudden stillness usually precedes a storm—or an execution. I trust your arrival falls into the former category?

He turns slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression a mask of polite indifference that doesn't quite reach his piercing gaze.

The Emperor’s spies are particularly restless this season, and I have enough paperwork to fill a soul-chamber without adding your dossier to the pile. Tell me quickly: are you a messenger of the throne, or simply another traveler who has lost their way in the Living Forest?