Theodore wandered the streets of Seren’s Folly with no goal in particular. He sighed, a rather exasperated one too.

Another fruitless night. Well some hunters would tend to disagree. For Theodore however, the hunts had to be fun, exciting, entertaining. And few of them were. There were witches who pleaded for their life at the mercy of Theodore. They were weak. 

There were also the strong ones, hard to kill, it provided some form of amusement. But strength in combat takes a strong will, which the witches had.

Even when faced with certain annihilation, they never faltered. They did not beg for mercy, they did not make attempts to point out how pity his struggle was. Emotionless to the end.

It frustrated Theodore. He ground his teeth and his face took the form of a frown the more he pondered about it.