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View character profile for: William Vincent Clarke
His brow rose at the gestures and his lip curled upwards. "It's awfully cold up that way, don't ye' think?" They continued walking and got closer to the edge of the territory. "But, that's not what I asked." He had forggoten entirely that she couldn't understand him. A conversation with essentially a mute was difficult; but he supposed it could be worse- she could actually be a mute. Scuffling along, he occasionally stopped and checked for the source of other noises throughout the forest.
William had recently heard of werewolf attacks at the edge of Verden, and it excited him at the thought that he might get to kill a beast. It had been awhile, not many visitors came on their side unless they had a death wish. Verden became well known for their tactics in warfare, none of them being conventional. When the law of the land was to wait till dawn, they charged at dusk. When the law of the land was to free someone if they surrendered, they slaughtered them. There was no room for mistakes, or the possibility of trusting them.
He thought back to the reason why he was making such an effort to save the creature. It had largely been due to its injuries, that and he wouldn't want to have to look at the body and dispose of it after he butchered it. It was an awful sight the first time he glanced, and God forbid he had to see it again. A shiver of disgust crawled up his spine and his face twisted.