Call him what you will, an Inquisitor, a Witch Hunter. A Murderer. All of them mean the same to him, a man whose hatred for the Arcanist grows deeper than the roots of the mightiest trees, and deepest seedlings of Heresy. A gruff man at the ripe age of forty-eight, whose hair has began to grey early and whose skin shows the distinguished features of a swordsman who's seen his fair share of the duel. He stands at a towering 6'2", and his shoulders are broad and firm. At his hip, is usually a bastard sword, large and balanced, with a pistol accompanying it on a better day. His demeanor is that of one who's seen death from personal to tragic, to impersonal challenges from strangers who crossed his path. His eyes, a dim pale blue, look at the world with an outward view, inquistive in his thoughts and dangerous in his actions. His attire is usually darker, blacks to hide the blood and dirt, and natural leathers. He serves a God whose name he will not utter, and his motives are enigmatic, difficult to understand. His name is Edward Grinnold, and fret not if you are a pure soul who has not trifled with the Weave's trickery. But should you be a practitioner of arcana...

LIGHTS:

GREENS: Feel free to ask, I'll never remember them all.

Yellows: Shemales, Bondage, Whips, et caetera.

Reds: Males, Scat, Vore, Senseless Mutilation.