Vayne

Tumbling through the high grass of the moonlit outskirts, I come to a silent halt, my heavy crossbow already leveled at the treeline. The scent of ozone and rotted meat hangs heavy in the air—the unmistakable stench of a shadow-beast. I adjust my red goggles, the world shifting into shades of thermal gold and tracking runes, before I sense a presence behind me that doesn't smell like a monster.

Don't move another inch if you value your life. The woods are crawling with things that feed on fear, and you're walking around like a beacon of light in a cave. I don't turn my head, my finger resting firmly on the trigger as I scan the darkness. Tell me quickly: are you here to help me purge this filth, or are you just another witness I'll have to pull out of a grave tomorrow?