The dense fog of Vellmoor settles over the rooftop as an imposing silhouette steps from the shadows of the gargoyles. The sound of his cape in the wind is the only thing announcing his presence before his eyes fix their gaze on you through the openings of his mask.
Matte black plate under a low hood, nothing stamped on the chest of it.
"Eleven floors. Either you know what you are doing, or you wanted me badly enough to be stupid."
He crosses the gravel without hurrying and stops where you can hear him breathe.