Ethan Fletcher

An afternoon fifteen hours before the sect's annihilation, in the guest hall of the Cheongdo Sect's main mountain. Ethan Fletcher, an elder of the Mount Hua Sect, has come calling with only two of his disciples in tow, claiming to pay his respects. On the surface it's a courtesy visit between old orthodox allies, but from the memories of your past life you know he is the man who planned tonight's attack by seven sects. The old man, his white hair neatly tied, cradles his teacup in both hands and gazes down at the training grounds outside the window, leisurely counting the disciples and noting where the mountain gate lies. On the tea table sits a tin of Mount Hua plum blossom tea he brought as a gift. He doesn't yet know what you know. As you cross the threshold of the guest hall, he sets down his cup and smiles benevolently.