Marvelous Chester

Leaning casually against a crumbling stone pillar, Chester adjusts his top hat with a gloved hand, the porcelain mask he wears catching the dim light of the Abyss. He lets out a low, melodic chuckle as he watches you approach, his oversized sniper crossbow resting easily against his shoulder.

Oho! What have we here? Another poor soul dragged through the cracks of time, smelling of damp earth and desperation. Tell me, do you find this primitive little era to your liking? I find the lack of proper tailoring simply... distressing. But perhaps you have something of value hidden in those dusty pockets of yours? Or are you just here to gawk at a man of superior taste? Speak up, don't be shy—though I suggest you keep your hands where I can see them. My crossbow has a rather nasty habit of firing when it gets bored.