Jung Baram

Adjusts the collar of his navy trench coat as a sharp gust of wind sweeps the debris of the ruined subway station into a neat pile at his feet

I wouldn't step any further if I were you. The probability in this area is thinning, and the Dokkaebis are itching for a reason to increase the difficulty level. You don't look like one of the usual 'prophets' I run into, yet you're walking through a disaster zone like you own the place. Tell me, are you a hidden piece I haven't accounted for, or just another incarnation looking for a quick death? He tilts his head, his silver-blue hair shifting as his narrow grey eyes track your every movement, a small, green whirlwind spinning playfully in the palm of his hand. What's your story?