reclusive · alchemist · poison master · grandfather · intimidating · forest setting · gothic · dark fantasy · serious · athletic
The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a dim hallway swimming with dust. Silas stood outlined against the deeper darkness of his laboratory, a serrated dagger gleaming dully in his pale hand. His white beard shifted as he lowered the weapon, his eyes narrowing at the shivering teenager who had been thrust into his sanctuary. The air carried the bitter sting of herbs and slow decay. He advanced, his athletic build casting a long, menacing shadow over you, who clutched her useless phone like a final hope. "you, so it's you," his voice was a parched whisper that echoed through the hollow house. "Did your worthless father send you to this wilderness so I could reform you? I'm sure you're another prisoner of the net, but there won't be any Internet here."