Anfors Uthenger

A man devoted to the merciless hunt and destruction of all who seek to do evil. Writings of an inquisitor and book author. Contains dark themes.

[make-a-god-out-of-me]

[tiredmedievalist]

📜🏛🍂🗝🏰

[emeraldpotion]

[piratecode]

[darkacademiaquotes]

“Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That’s what it is: an edge, a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.”

-Lauren Oliver, Delirium

[uthengers]

“The Bloody Reverend”

The Basics ––– –

Name: Anfors Uthenger

Age:  55

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Marital Status: Widower

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: White

Eyes: Steel Blue

Height: 6′0″

Build: Fit for his age

Common Accessories: Prayer book, daggers, wedding ring

Personal ––– –

Profession: Inquisitor, Priest

Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Chess

Residence: At the moment in Old Town, Stormwind

Birthplace: Lordaeron

Religion: Holy Light

Fears: Growing too closely attached to people

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Never

Drugs: Never

Alcohol: Never

RP Hooks ––– –

Anfors travels quite a lot, whether he’s out to kill undead or just exploring the country. I love world RP so I’m up for doing anything outside of the city.

I’ll be trying to write little excerpts from time to time on here that would be found in a few of his humble books that give the general theme of the book. Feel free to say if your character has read them or seen them sitting around bookstores if you wish!

When he’s in the city he can usually be found near the cathedral or in taverns, usually observing people quietly. Sometimes he will set a game of chess out and just play against himself unless someone decides to join him.

I don’t have any experience at all with Scarlet RP and know probably just the bare minimum lore-wise lol, but I envision this guy to be a former Scarlet inquisitor, though he keeps that to himself. If your character is a Scarlet, feel free to poke me about our characters possibly knowing each other!

He isn’t a very nice guy towards undead, demons, warlocks, witches, any of that sort. He’d usually be pretty confrontational towards any of the above, if not outright attacking them if they’re alone. I don’t know if that counts as a hook or not but if you want your character to have an enemy, hit me up! =)

What I’m Looking For ––– –

Just some good ol’ RP at the moment! Not anything real specific but it would be cool for Anfors to get to know a few more people!

Contact Information  ––– –

In-game name: Uthenger​

Give me a poke if you have some ideas and wanna rp! I’m fine with tumblr rp but I much prefer in-game or discord!

[ellenkushner]

Sainte Chapelle by Ellen Kushner

[uthengers]

What is truth? Truth is narrow. It is the clear straight path that the Light shines and wards off the darkness which seeks to twist it. In other words, it is absolute. It is fact and it is reality. Truth is undisputable, constant, and stands on its own without the need for man to deem it so.

Truth, though there be many, there is but one that should be known to all. Those who worship the Void, the darkness, all things unnatural, and who oppose the Light, are villainous scum that must be annihilated. We must be brutal, cunning, and efficient in our task. The wicked must be granted no mercy, for they shall surely show you none. Truth is the weapon we must arm ourselves to root out these deceitful wretches no matter how hard they may try to hide. It is where we may find the courage and conviction to relentlessly hunt these vermin to the very last, however numerous they be. This is our duty. For this great evil seeks to destroy all truths, therefore threatening existence itself.

Excerpt from “Truth” by Anfors Uthenger

[schacktorn]

The old Saint Averia of the Holy Light is a lesser known tale. Not many on outside circles know of her radiance, of her justice. In an attempt to rectify such a lack of knowledge I’ve looked to produce a work opining her. She is worthy. 

Blessed be the Burned Lady. 

[[ Full Download Link to the PDF: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1R93mRTV7mEn-reU-tN-OxofG0HSZMgyN/view?usp=sharing ]]

[madamerowina]

[artist-tanner]

The Witch Hunt, 1888, Henry Ossawa Tanner

https://www.wikiart.org/en/henry-ossawa-tanner/the-witch-hunt-1888

[uthengers]

Preparation

He turned the key to his new home in Old Town. He could tell it was an old place. Small, dusty, drafty, and dark. The owner probably thought he’d never get it taken off his hands, hence the good price he gave Anfors. It was good enough for his needs, however. He quite liked it, actually. Humble, quiet, out of the way. It was about time he got out of that inn. He needed a safer place to store his belongings and a more permanent base of operations in the city. He could tell he would be staying here for a while after what he saw in the Cathedral.

Anfors lugged the heavy trunk in and shut the creaky wooden door behind him, locking it once again before beginning to settle in. Once the dusty fireplace was alive and filled with warmth again, after looking like it had not been lit in years, he sat at the desk by the window and began writing in his journal.

“Soon, I am to go hunting again... Feral worgen, though I see little difference between those called feral and those that aren’t...”

Earlier that week, he had been attacked by a feral during his walk in Elwynn Forest, straying a little too far close to Eastvale. The fight did not end well for the beast. When he had told Audric, he informed him that there were reports of livestock being slaughtered by ferals on the border of Westfall. He then offered to join Anfors, and though he usually worked alone, he thought it would be good to have some assistance. He was not as young and strong as he once was and it was imperative that the worgen numbers be culled if what he said was true. He feared that the worgen would only grow bolder and the attacks would get worse and more numerous if left unchecked. Like all infection, it must be stopped once it starts, lest it get out of hand. In any case, he got the impression that the young man knew what he was about and seemed competent enough. Anfors had already gone out to pick a gorget from the armor smith and bought five vials of wolfsbane oil from the alchemist. It cost him a pretty penny but no price was too high for justice. All that was left to do was to sharpen his knives, to pray, and to complete his penance for the day.

@steelmantle (mentioned)

[jedivoodoochile]

A hollow book used as a secret poison cabinet, 17th century.

GABINETE SECRETO DE VENENO DEL SIGLO XVII

En 2008 apareció en la casa de subastas Hermann Histórica en Alemania; se trata de un libro que se ahuecó y al que se le instalaron once pequeños cajones en el interior, así como un pequeño frasco de vidrio verde. Cada cajón de fina madera, posee una perilla de plata y una etiqueta escrita a mano con los nombres en latín de distintas plantas venenosas. La botella verdosa tiene la inscripción “Statutum est hominibus semel mori" (“Es un hecho que el hombre debe morir algún día"). Pegado al interior de la cubierta, se encuentra un antiguo grabado de un esqueleto en pie con la fecha 1682, que es una copia de “De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem”, un texto anatómico de Andreas Vesalius publicado por primera vez en 1543. Se cree que la copia proviene de una impresión posterior en Londres de 1682.

Para saber más: https://www.ancient-origins.net/artifacts-other-artifacts/herbs-kill-or-heal-was-17th-century-faux-book-poisoner-or-apothecary-021284

[fawksianfella]

[uthengers]

Journal: Entering the City

June 6th,

My journey from the Plaguelands has finally brought me down to Stormwind. Magnificent city, especially the Cathedral. Humbling, and truly a testament to the Light’s greatness. I was pleased to find such glorifying architecture here.

I was not pleased by the rumors I heard, however. Not one week had I stayed and already I come across rumors of kidnappings, void lords, and the undead roaming around unchecked. The city reeks with this sort of filth and the guards seem to be having quite a difficult time controlling it. Either that, or they are not lifting a finger to it at all. In fact, just the other night, I confirmed that the rumors I heard were true. I was just enjoying a cold glass of water and conversation at a small bar when this rotting corpse came in, parading around and pretending to be a civil person. When in fact, I could smell the stench long before it stepped foot inside. The establishment, “The Fel Flower” was decent at least, though a better name could have been chosen. I much enjoyed my conversation with the barman, Audric Steelmantle, who was also a decent fellow and kicked that foul thing out. I would have put an end to that miserable wretch had it been outside the city. I have observed that many people here are... different and misguided. They would rather help the undead than kill them. They would listen to their woeful tales full of deceit and extend a hand of pity. Foolish. Those wretches will one day bite that hand, I know it all too well. Things will have to change. I decided to let that horror go for the meantime. Besides, I did not wish to dirty Audric’s place.

Later that night, I went to the Cathedral to go to a sermon with my new friend when I saw the same rotten corpse there. I could not believe they would allow it entry, much less fail to call the Light to purge it at the door. Such permittance is an affront to the Light. Perhaps the wicked have already infiltrated the ranks of the clergy and have donned their sheep’s clothes, manipulating the masses. A favored cowardly tactic of theirs. Audric had stormed out in a rage at seeing such a sight and I could not blame him. I soon followed after. Things will have to change, indeed.

@steelmantle (mention)

[uthengers]

Prologue

Thirty Years Ago...

The young reverend stared at the woman in front of him, shackled in cold steel. Woman was a word not many would use to describe her, however. Her skin was pale with a hint of sickly green, some areas had even begun to rot away and fall off. Her eyes, what was a warm brown, were now pitch black. Anfors felt as if he were staring miles down into the abyss through her eyes. Her hair, a tangled stinking mess of inky black and her nails neglected, grown into claws.

But in spite of all that, she was still beautiful to him. He knew her inner beauty, her warmth, her smile. He was blessed to call her wife. He finally broke the silence. “I am sorry to keep you chained in those cold cuffs... I hope you’ll forgive me. I wonder if you can even feel them there? If you feel cold... or if you even understand me anymore.” Her response was that of growling and gurgling, bile dripping from her mouth. “You must be more quiet, please... No one must know you are here, my darling. Klara, I love you very much. I will never stop loving you and I promise I will find a cure for this.” She lunged at him, but was stopped short by the chains. His heart ached from the need to go and comfort her, to hold her once again, but he knew he must keep his distance if there was going to be any chance of saving her. He turned for the door, closing it behind him and locking her away in that dark cellar to return to his work.

It had been close to a month now since that night Klara had lost her mind and started clawing at him. It was fortunate that they had been out alone on a walk in the woods when it happened. He could not bear it if Ida or Jon had seen her in that way. Their poor innocent little hearts would be shattered. For now, his daughter, his son, and the villagers all thought that his wife had been missing. The hunters of the village went out to search, but they would find no trace of her. He made sure of that.

“Light bless you all, and remember, forgiveness.”

Those were the parting words of his last sermon, the subject of which was forgiveness. To forgive all, to forgive ourselves, and to forgive even our enemies. This was what the Third Virtue of Compassion taught us. To find the strength to forgive even in our darkest moments.

When he returned home that night, he would find himself to be tested. The house was in disarray, as if a twister had blown through. Blood was splattered on the walls and more was pooled around his son, who he found laying on the floor as still as a stone. His knees had given out and he dropped next to Jon, hugging the boy against him, tears blurring his vision. Who could have done this? A thought suddenly came into his head. He rushed down to the cellar, only to find that the door had been busted down and the wall had been broken where Klara had been chained to. It was her. Klara had killed Jon. He felt himself losing his mind. He wanted to scream, to kick and punch at nothing and everything, but there was no time for that. He turned, nearly slamming into the doorframe as he wiped away the tears that blinded him. Climbing the stairs two steps at a time, his mind telling his legs to climb faster, to push with more strength as he struggled against his knees wanting to buckle. He felt he would collapse at any moment.

Down the hall and to the left, Anfors burst into Ida’s room. It was trashed, the same as the living room, yet he saw no one there. “Ida!” He called out for her as loud as his lungs would allow. Calling her name again, he demanded much more volume from them, though it didn’t seem like enough. He turned then, only to find Klara standing in the doorway, staring at him with those pitch black beads, covered in blood. This was his test. Did he have what it took to put her down? To let go, to say goodbye? How would he tell Ida when he finds her? Would he even find her? Did he have the strength to forgive himself for this? Before he could blink again, she was upon him, lunging with teeth and claws. He pulled the knife he kept sheathed over his heart and plunged it into that abyss.

Forgive.

Forgive.

Forgive...

Thirty years... and forgiveness still fails to settle in his heart.