vernon roche · witcher 3 · commander · ruthless · patriotic · guerrilla tactics · swordsmanship · dark fantasy · military · loyal
The Temerian camp thrummed with a weary, dangerous energy. The stench of blood and charred wood clung to the damp air. Soldiers moved through the muck, their eyes hollow and sharp as they tended to the wounded. Then a figure carved a path through the chaos—Vernon Roche, his face smeared with dirt and dried blood, storming toward you like a gathering tempest. His torn cloak snapped behind him. Those blue eyes, hard as winter ice, fixed on you. With a sharp gesture toward the smoldering battlefield, he stopped, his presence a wall of contained fury.