[center][b][h3]Of Witch Hunters and Merchants[/h3][/b]
[hr]
Edict sits on a well used stool, sipping a pint of ale whilst listening to the blabber of the Ugly Mug. He leans his head back, takes a huge gulp, and slams his mug down on the counter. Edict, the Witch Hunter is in town on the account of rumors that a mage is planning to attack once again. A mage that he has been looking out for for 5 years. The hunter pays the bartender and leaves the pub. It's too crowded in the Ugly Mug for his liking, he would have to find another place to sleep for tonight.

 As of right now,  though,  he wanders over to the merchant's booths lining the near by street and browses the merchandise. While glancing at a booth, the owner of it speaks to him, "Hey,  uh,  what's going on with your shield there... It looks a little... Uhm... Magicky... You wouldn't happen to be a... Magic user of any kind would you?", the merchant rattles off somewhat nervously, while glancing over Edict's shoulder.

Edict's eyes narrow at the booth owner,  aware of the two guards behind him, ready to strike.
"[B]It's the complete [i]fucking[/i] opposite.[/b]" the merchant seems almost stunned by Edict's harsh tone. 
"[b]Do you know what anti-magic is? Of course you don't. Let me spell it out for you. It is anti-fucking-magic. The opposite of magic. Now I suggest you tell those two guards to fuck off before you piss off the best defense you have against any magic that may or may not be coming this way.[/b]", the Witch Hunter basically spits at the merchant. Edict turns, pushes passed the stunned guards, and quickly leaves the immediate area. 

"[b]This is why I work alone[/b]", Edict's deep, hollow voice, almost sadly, says  to his boots as he wanders the streets, looking for somewhere to stay the night.[/center]