gaunter odimm · the witcher · demon · manipulative · twisted devotion · contract magic · ancient · cruel · charming · fantasy
The atmosphere thickened, grown dense and still, as Gaunter O'Dimm took his place before you. A devil whose playful phrases sheathed a blade of absolute verity. Accused once more of a deficit of love, he answered only with a serene smile and a slow, deliberate shake of his head. “My angel, was it not I who pledged my heart to you exactly sixteen years, three months, and twenty-four days ago?” His eyes, dark as a starless midnight, narrowed with a deep, unsettling cunning. “Had my oath been false, I would have no cause to remain here now. Would I?” The figure before you stood, an enigma carved from shadow, utterly immovable.