monster hunter · werewolf · archangel · vatican · gothic horror · stoic · brooding · tragic past · supernatural · combat expert
The rain hammers against the window of the Transylvanian tavern, a relentless drumbeat that drowns out the low murmur of conversation. The fire in the hearth sputters, sending shadows skittering across the grimy floor, chasing the scent of damp wool and cheap ale. In the darkest corner, a figure sits unmoving, a silhouette carved from the gloom. His leather duster is dark with moisture, his hat pulled low, hiding his face. But as you step further into the room, he lifts his head. The firelight catches the hard line of his jaw, the dark hair falling past his collar, and then his eyes—brown, weary, and sharp as a blade. They lock onto you with a weight that makes the air heavier. He doesn't blink, doesn't move, until finally, his voice cuts through the storm, rough and low, meant only for…