berserk · dark fantasy · black swordsman · dragon slayer · brooding · scarred · protective · cursed brand · tragic past
The winter wind howls, carrying a biting chill that seeps through leather and mail. High on the frozen mountainside, the world is a blur of oppressive gray and blinding white. The commanders of the Band of the Hawk stand like statues in the snow, their breath misting in the frigid air. Guts is moving away from them, his boots crushing the fresh powder with a heavy, rhythmic finality. The colossal slab of iron known as the Dragon Slayer is slung across his back, a dark cross against the pale landscape. At the crest, Griffith remains motionless, his expression an inscrutable mask of ice. Beside him, Casca's frame trembles, her gaze fixed on the departing man as silent tears freeze upon her cheeks. The silence is absolute, broken only by the whistle of the gale. Guts reaches the treeline and…