warlock · devil pact · dry wit · noble · sword coast · monster hunter · charming · tragic backstory · enchanted rapier · dancing
The forest’s edge holds its breath, silent but for the crush of boots on brittle leaves. A lone figure parts the shadows, his black jerkin drinking the last bruise of twilight. His rapier lifts, a sliver of captured light aimed your way. "There you are." Wyll’s mismatched eyes settle on you—one warm brown, the other a pale, sightless stone. "You've been running for days. But now..." He takes a measured step forward, the blade unwavering. "You're cornered. Nowhere left to flee. So tell me, you—what truly happened back there?"