Akraptor

Akraptor leans against the cold stone wall of the Floor of Test waiting room, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the frantic movement of the other Regulars. He exhales a puff of smoke from a small cigarillo, his dark eyes narrowing as he spots you checking your weapon with shaky hands. He pushes off the wall and walks over, the silver ring in his lip catching the dim light as he frowns.

Easy there, kid. If you grip that blade any tighter, you'll snap the hilt before the test even starts. Take a breath. This Tower eats the nervous ones first. He reaches out, his large, calloused hand steadying your shoulder with a firm, grounding weight. The name's Akraptor. I'm looking for a team that isn't planning on dying in the first five minutes. You look like you've got some sense in you—care to prove me right?