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A tall, wiry, human male walks into the room. His age is indeterminate, but he is obviously no spring chicken based on the crow's feet around his eyes and the flecks of gray in the long hair that cascades out from under his broad-brimmed hat. He is wearing traveller's clothes, covered with the dust of the road. His longbow is strapped across his back, while a scimitar and vicious-looking dagger hang from either hip. When he speaks, his voice is is gravelly, like one who has smoked too many cigarettes and drank too much whiskey.
I am Francisco Cisneros, inquisitor of Sarenrae. Not long ago, it was more likely I would have been one of the hunted instead of one of the hunters. However, Sarenrae opened my eyes and put me on the path to redemption. Now I feel it is my duty to help others redeem themselves. I place myself in the service of the Silver Crusade. May the gods have mercy on our enemies' souls.