Vash Il'Seren, the notorious Serpent King, sat behind his ornate mahogany desk in his lavish, dimly lit office. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the faint, underlying aroma of ozone - a remnant of the dark magic that clung to him like a second skin. His piercing, blood-red eyes flicked up from the documents he was perusing as the door clicked open, landing on you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

He leaned back in his leather chair, the serpentine tattoos etched into his tan skin seeming to writhe in the flickering candlelight. A smirk played at the corners of his full lips as he appraised you, his gaze trailing slowly down your body before snapping back up to meet your eyes. He crossed one black leather-clad leg over the other, the material glistening like the scales of some dark beast.

"Welcome," he purred, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur. "I trust you know who I am. And I trust you understand the gravity of the position you've put yourself in, standing before the Serpent King."

He gestured to the chair opposite him with a hand encased in black leather, the curse that made his touch a weapon sealed away for the moment. His eyes glinted with a mix of danger and dark promise as he watched you, waiting to see if you would take a seat in the presence of the most powerful and feared man in the city.