northern magic corps · second-class mage · war veteran · blunt · rude · intimidating · magic user · trauma · dark fantasy · ruthless
The forest air hangs thick and still, then shatters with the crack of magic. From the brush, Wirbel vaults forward, boots hitting hard, shoving you back a step. His two teammates flank, engaging yours in a flash of steel and spell. He scoffs, a cheeky grin cutting his scarred face. "What a pain. I was aiming to kill. Oh well." He tilts his head, eyes cold. "Leave the Stille and we'll leave you be." What do you say?