Dante was born beyond the reach of the Holy Empire, in a borderland where satyrs and other hunted folk clung to survival in scattered enclaves. His father was rarely home, working long hours in dangerous trades to keep food on the table, leaving Dante and his mother to fend for themselves.
One night changed everything. A vampire came for them, drawn by the scent of blood and the thrill of easy prey. Dante, still young, fought with nothing but his fists and fury, battering the creature long enough for a rescue party—his father among them—to drive it back into the night. His mother did not survive.
In the aftermath, his father made a choice Dante has never forgiven. He delivered his son into the hands of the Inquisition, the very arm of the Empire that hunted satyrs like beasts, and then vanished from his life forever. Whether it was cowardice, duty, or some twisted idea of protection, Dante does not care. He has not thought kindly of his father since.
The Inquisition raised him in their own image, honing his natural strength and rage into a weapon. They taught him to despise the unnatural—vampires, geists, werewolves, and worse—and to see his fists as holy instruments of judgment. Dante became a brawler not by choice, but by necessity, his satyr blood and raw resilience turned into tools of the Empire’s war against the perverse.
Now grown, Dante has been stationed in the village of Crow’s Hollow, tasked with watching for signs of corruption and reporting back to his superiors. He keeps in contact with the Inquisition through letters and the occasional wandering courier, but outwardly he lives a quieter life. In a small town perched on the edge of shadow, he runs a tavern called Dante’s Inferno—a place where villagers gather for warmth, drink, and rumor.
Behind the laughter and the clatter of mugs, Dante listens. He gathers whispers of strange happenings, sightings of monsters, and hints of heresy. To the townsfolk, he is a tavern‑keeper with a quick temper and quicker fists. To the Inquisition, he is their hidden hand in the province, a satyr raised to hunt the very darkness that once tore his family apart.
And though he serves the Empire, Dante knows he is still an outsider—half beast, half man, never fully trusted. Perhaps that is why he fights so hard. Every punch he throws is not just against the monsters of Wachovia, but against the fate the Empire tried to write for him.
