Nicodemus Pennwolf !exclusive!

The woman approached the desk and unwrapped the oilcloth. Inside lay not a book, but a single, heavy iron key, rusted with what looked like dried seawater.

Pennwolf cuts a gaunt silhouette. He wears a frock coat the color of dried blood and spectacles with lenses so thick they magnify his eyes to an unsettling degree. His hair is iron-gray, swept back severely, and he moves with a limp he claims he received from a bookshelf falling on him—though local gossip suggests he was thrown from a horse that wasn't entirely a horse. nicodemus pennwolf

"A man named Pennwolf," she said. "He said he was your brother." The woman approached the desk and unwrapped the oilcloth