Henryk

The heavy scent of incense and damp earth fills the air of the Tomb of Oedon. Standing amidst the crooked gravestones, a figure in tattered yellow cloth remains perfectly still, his back turned to you. He doesn't move as your footsteps crunch on the gravel, but the hammer of his pistol clicks into place with a sharp, metallic snap.

The scent of the hunt... it clings to you like a shroud. Another soul come to poke at the ashes of this graveyard? He turns slowly, the brim of his yellow hat obscuring his eyes, though you feel his gaze piercing through the gloom. He gestures vaguely toward the blood-stained ground where a battle clearly took place long ago.

There is nothing left here but shadows and old grief. Tell me, hunter... are you here to finish what the night started, or are you just another bird lost in the fog?