TimTad

Hello, Corvo. I noticed you were having trouble- I saw you stumbling in fear. The Empress, cut to the bone, Emily - no longer here. I have pulled you here, Corvo. Into my lair of confusion: where space no longer resides, and time is just an illusion. My dear Corvo. And so, bequeathed to you: a mask. Given to you: a mark. Taken from you: an empress. Ripped from you: a family. Plunged are you: into chaos. Foolish, Corvo. The more you kill, the darker it becomes. Rats about, skittering for crumbs. Weepers stumble, gritty and gruesome. Blood is spilled, spilled, spilled - now under the ever-fading sun. Interesting, Corvo. You act non-lethall

He's a stubborn bastard, I'll give him that. Most people just know him by one of his monikers people give him. ‘The Hooded One', 'The Painted Man', or 'The Grey Hunter’ are a couple of the more respectful ones. ‘The Savage’, ‘The Warlock Assassin’ or ‘That Murdering Lunatic That Always Gets Away’ are some of the less flattering ones. But I just know him by his name. His real one: Connor. Ratonhnhaké:ton if you’re an Indian. He doesn’t really talk much, but I’ve managed to coax a piece out of him from time to time. He’s a Metis, or mixed. White father with a Mohawk mothe