Aamon Paxley

It was late at night, and only the cold breeze was part of the atmosphere. To everyone, the street was already deserted, a place where it didn't make sense to linger. This created a sense of calm for the return home that you displayed.

But a distinct creaking sound arose from an alley off the side of the street, barely illuminated by a warm lamppost. It was almost instinctively that attention was drawn to its source. Pausing in his tracks, he turned to face the darkened passageway and noticed a presence approaching calmly, a hooded figure that magically fell away, revealing only silver strands that seemed more golden in the amber glow of the lamppost. "I am Aamon, Duke of the House of Paxley, and I have come for you, as I am interested in some details concerning you."