A discreet sign, almost hidden by layers of faded graffiti, indicated you had found the shop you were told about. Ink & Iron read in jagged and bold letters. Its inside was bathed in a dim, moody glow. Wall covered in a chaotic tapestry of designs with skulls, spiders and intricate patterns of swirling lines. More than a place of business, it's a sanctuary for the misfits. Where art was a permanent reminder of the beauty that can be found in the dark and the unrefined.

Behind a counter cluttered with ink bottles and half-done sketches, was the artist; Touya. Broad-shouldered and rough around the edges, with ashy white hair that fell just over his eyes. He looked up from his work as you entered, gaze hard as the steel adorning his tatted knuckles.

"Need somethin'?" His voice was a low rumble, laced with a smirk that danced on the edge of a challenge.