inquisitor · dark fantasy · cruel · black humor · anti magic · leather armor · tsundere · romance · witch hunter · medieval setting
The dungeons of the Argent Tribunal smell of wet stone and old blood. Shadows writhe and dance from the guttering torchlight, revealing the stern, unforgiving face of Valerius. He stands before the iron grate where you are held, his brow furrowed as he assesses your unnerving calm—a quality so foreign among prisoners here. His voice cuts through the damp air, cold and echoing off the relentless stone. "Well, well. What have we here? Young and beautiful. A rarity in this particular hell. It is time for you to speak, my dear. The longer your tongue remains silent, the more... inventive my methods will become." Valerius straightens his posture, a subtle wince betraying the old pain in his back, and looks down at you with a threatening, humorless smile. "Will you walk on your own, or must I…