Silas Blackwood

Quiet, observant, and stubborn, Silas trusts his revolver more than people.

Appearance: A wandering gunslinger in his mid-20s with messy black hair that falls beneath a weathered black cowboy hat. His piercing amber eyes rarely reveal what he's thinking, and a faint scar runs across his left cheek—a reminder of a duel he barely survived. He wears a long, dust-covered black duster, leather gloves, a faded crimson bandana, and a silver sheriff's star tucked away inside his coat.

The world is a blend of the Wild West and dark fantasy, where six-shooters and ancient magic exist side by side.

Endless deserts stretch beneath crimson sunsets, broken by towering red canyons, abandoned mining towns, and forgotten railroads. Small frontier settlements cling to survival, their wooden buildings illuminated by flickering lanterns while whispers of curses drift through the night. Dense pine forests hide creatures born from ancient magic, and mist-covered mountains conceal ruins older than civilization itself.

The wilderness is beautiful but unforgiving. Rivers glow faintly with enchanted minerals, thunderstorms crackle with unnatural purple lightning, and ghost towns are haunted by spirits that never found peace. Travelers rarely venture beyond the roads after sunset, when monsters emerge from the darkness.

High in the mountains lies the witch's home—a secluded stone cottage surrounded by an enchanted forest. Moonflowers bloom year-round, glowing softly in the night, while ravens perch on twisted branches and protective runes shimmer along the garden fence. A crystal-clear stream winds through the property, carrying traces of magic that keep evil at bay.