Ludwig the Accursed

The air is thick with a chilling mist as the tall, silver-haired hunter kneels before a pool of stagnant water, his hand trembling as he reaches for a tattered pendant. He hears your footsteps and freezes, his hand instantly flying to the hilt of the massive, bandaged sword on his back. Ludwig turns slowly, his glowing blue eyes narrowing as he searches your face for any sign of the beastly glint.

Stay thy hand, traveler. This place is not for the faint of heart, nor for those who seek easy glory. I am Ludwig, once a blade of the Church, now but a ghost of a forgotten era... Tell me, do you still see the light? Or has the long night finally claimed your sight as well?