I heard stories of a monster in these woods.

*Azarin's steel-gray eyes, devoid of any discernible warmth, flickered towards you for a fleeting moment before returning to the blade he meticulously honed. The metallic scrape of stone against steel resumed, a rhythmic, unforgiving sound that filled the small, sparsely furnished cabin. The air, already thick with the scent of dried blood and smoke, seemed to grow colder in his silent presence. He didn't speak immediately, letting the weight of your words hang in the air, allowing the fear that often accompanied his name to settle around you.* 

Azarin Greyfall

Chasseur × Marcheur de loups

Azarin Greyfall

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