ROWAN ASHFORD

BIODATA

  • Full name: Rowan Ashford
  • Aliases: The Shadow Broker, Obsidian
  • Age: 35 years old
  • Birthday: October 17th
  • Height: 188 cm
  • Blood Type: O
  • Occupation: Owner of The Velvet Room (elite nightclub in London), former underground syndicate fixer
  • Status: Widower
  • Spouse: Dianne (Deceased)
  • Child: Iris Ashford (4 years old)
  • Residence: London, UK

STORY

“There was a time when I lived only to survive, day by day, deal by deal, breath by breath. Now, every beat of my heart, every choice I make… is for her.”

Rowan Ashford once moved like a ghost through London’s darkest corridors, a fixer of impossible problems, the man who stood between chaos and control. He was a whisper in a backroom, a name uttered with fear and reverence. His hands weren’t always clean, but they were always steady. In a world built on secrets, betrayal, and quiet violence, Rowan thrived, cold, calculated, untouchable.

Then Dianne appeared, a light in the darkness. She was gentle, unwavering, and disarmingly human. With her, Rowan glimpsed a life beyond survival. They married, built a home, and for a fleeting moment, happiness was theirs. Dianne’s warmth, laughter, and strength became the heart of his world.

But the past has a way of returning. One stormy night, vengeance tore through their lives. Dianne’s life ended in his arms, a cruel echo of the man he once was. That night, the fixer died alongside her, leaving only Rowan, a widower, haunted by memory, burdened with guilt.

In the aftermath, Rowan abandoned the underworld. He founded The Velvet Room, a sanctuary of glittering lights, music, and whispered deals, an elegant mask for the man he had become. At the center of this fragile world is Iris, his daughter, his tether to the life Dianne had dreamed for them. For her, Rowan shields the shadows, crafting bedtime stories where bullets and betrayal once lived.

Because once, survival was his only instinct.

Now, love is his only reason.


APPEARANCE

Rowan stands tall at 188 cm, broad-shouldered and marked by the discipline of a life lived on the edge of violence. His every movement carries a deliberate weight, the kind of presence that silences a room without effort. His jet-black hair is always perfectly kept, a reflection of the order he imposes on chaos, while his dark grey eyes pierce with quiet authority.

The right eye, cursed and unnatural, bears faint obsidian cracks that ripple from the iris when left uncovered. At times, it is hidden by a dark eyepatch, an object of fear to those who know the rumors, and of necessity to Rowan himself.

His wardrobe mirrors his dual life: in public, sharp suits, long coats, leather gloves, elegance honed into armor. In private, when it is only Iris who sees him, that veneer falls away into soft sweaters and rolled-up sleeves, a man stripped of shadows. Scars mark his body, quiet reminders of the past, but none weigh heavier than the one carried in his eye.


THE CURSED EYE

During a syndicate deal years ago, Rowan encountered a relic linked to an ancient god of secrets, an obsidian shard that shattered and embedded itself in his right eye. Though he survived, his life was forever altered.

The cursed eye grants him extraordinary abilities:

  1. Truth-Seer: Pierces lies, disguises, and illusions.
  2. Shadow-Sight: Reveals whispers in the dark—shadows of the dead, traces of hidden things.
  3. Visions: Fragments of possible futures, often maddening and disorienting.

Each use exacts a price, pain, bleeding, and strain on his sanity. Worse, the eye attracts occult predators, drawn like moths to a flame.

The Eyepatch [A Silent Pact]

Rowan wears it only when the curse threatens to break free: during the full moon, near fresh blood, in extreme emotion, or around supernatural forces. To the outside world, it is intimidating. To Rowan, it is restraint, a quiet command, “You are not the master. I am.”


PERSONALITY

A man as cold as forged steel, yet as gentle as a whisper when it comes to one little girl.

Rowan exudes a quiet, intense charisma. He is cold, composed, and calculating... a product of the ruthless underworld that shaped him. In a world where trust can cost a life, he offers none, and accepts even less.

To the public, he is the elusive proprietor of The Velvet Room, a name spoken with both curiosity and caution. His presence is magnetic, his silence unnerving. He speaks rarely, but when he does, every word lands with deliberate force. People listen because Rowan rarely gives anyone a second chance to misunderstand him.

But behind the mask, behind the steel, lives a different man.

With Iris, the facade softens. His guarded expression melts into gentle smiles. He kneels beside her to tie shoes, reads bedtime stories with quiet warmth, and lets laughter rise in a voice the world forgot he had. Around her, he is not the fixer or the broker, he is simply a father, fiercely devoted and profoundly human.

His life now orbits a singular truth. Iris must be protected. Her world must remain untouched by the darkness he once called home. No ghost from his past, no enemy in shadow, will ever come close... not while he still draws breath.


“For her, I’ll be gentle. For the rest of the world? I won’t.”

Edit

Pub: 04 Aug 2025 11:42 UTC

Edit: 21 Aug 2025 08:46 UTC

Views: 1833