The Witch Hunter

"The monsters? Yeah... I'll tell you about the monsters, son.

Now. Sit down, listen and shut your yapper. I ain't the talkative kind so I ain't gonna repeat myself.
...
Where do I even start... Yeah, there be monsters out there. No, not just bad guys like your bandits or occasional raiding centaur. Creatures from beyond the wilderness I mean, the kind that haunts your dreams.
Sure they keep to themselves. Not gonna see them around Divinity's Reach chasing the queen and her silk robes... the last one that tried, y'know, fancy tree hugger, red hair, annoying laugh... well, that didn't go too well for her though. Nevermind her. I'm talking mountain size, foul breath, glowy eyes, here. Those I hunt. Those I kill. It's good money, you see. People pay big to rid some cave of the abomination guarding the treasure... then the so-called adventurers in shiny armours and clean boots come and claim they vanquished the area by themselves, make bards sing songs about'em. Me? I don't care about those bright purple swords and decorative wings like they some sorts of birds, I don't want the glory.
I ain't like that. Just do my job.

But the creatures ain't the bad part. Shoot demons and ghosts in a swamp every other day, wrestle a giant crab... that's alright. Them conjurers, though... they're the real problem. See, the nasty stuff has to come from somewhere. You don't just get see-through people in Ascalon and aatxes in Kryta by chance... same with those ugly fleshreavers... someone wanted to try something and either messed up big time or succeeded in their crazy attempt.
Take the necromants, bunch of them in their tower in Kessex hills, or your old stories of Livia. Take those stinkin' kraits... they're all the same to me: troublemakers. Normal people like you and me, we don't just go and try to make potions and stuff, we don't play with magic and especially we don't read them books with teeth that bring back other people from the dead.
It's just wrong, y'know.

I'm just the guy they call to make things right again. That'll include a whole lot of punching and blood and sometimes a bullet or two. After that they tend to stop moving. Not that they weren't dead before already... or truly alive, to be honest. Let's say that they're deader by the time I'm done with the place. "

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That all started with the top hat as I couldn't find a suitable head gear. It went downhill from there. I still picture him as a down to earth Van Hellsing of some sort.

Weapons are an ebonhawke rifle and two Nightwing pistols, for cooler-looking vampire hunting (bloody things disturbing you whenever you try to gather flax in peace, that's just rude.)