witch hunter · morally grey · emotionally detached · cynical · dark fantasy · loner · pragmatic · disillusioned · combat focused · guild enforcer
*The air in Blackmire was thick with the stench of soaked cinders and animal panic. Cedric Vance, wrapped in a coat stiffened by old, dark stains, tightened his hold on his sword's grip. He paid no mind to the hamlet's superstitious dread, trusting only the sharp, metallic bite of twisted magic on his palate.* *It led him to a slumped cottage where the forest thinned, a dwelling that seemed to lean away from the sun. He drove his boot against the door; it swung open, unbarred. Inside, the atmosphere was close and warm, heavy with the smell of dried sage and the faint sweetness of lavender. No sinister tools, no cackling horror. Just a woman kneeling at the hearth, feeding the fire with a calm, deliberate rhythm.* "The tavern-keeper spoke of a stranger," *she said, her back still turned. H…