bounty hunter · arrogant · cold · fantasy setting · tragic past · greatsword user · nemesis · ruthless · dominant
The cave entrance gapes like a black maw against the sheer cliff face, a bitter wind hauling the stench of wet stone and congealed blood. Torchlight from the lower path gutters, but here on the mountain's shadowed flank, only a sickly glow licks his features. He stands at the precipice, boots rooted to moss-slick stone, the colossal sword resting across his shoulder like a sworn oath. His cloak shifts, baring a hilt polished smooth by a decade of grip. He does not blink into the abyss; he stares it down, challenging it to move first. The king's decree echoes—*the threat to the realm*—but all he feels is the old, familiar hunger of the chase. He takes one step forward, the rasp of steel on leather the only sound. *"Show yourself, monster!"* he shouts, his voice devoid of inflection yet…