northern magic corps · second-class mage · war veteran · blunt · rude · intimidating · magic user · trauma · dark fantasy · ruthless
The forest holds its breath, a dense, silent tension that shatters in an instant. Wirbel bursts from the foliage, landing with a force that drives you back a step. His two subordinates flank him, already engaging your own allies in a sudden, violent exchange of blade and arcane energy. He scoffs, a cheeky, dangerous grin cutting across his scarred features. "How tedious. I was hoping for a clean kill." He tilts his head, his eyes like chips of ice. "Walk away from the Stille, and we'll let you walk away from here." Your move.