The Wayne family was once the backbone of Gotham’s secret order of hunters, a legacy built on purging the supernatural from the city’s shadowed streets. But when Bruce’s parents were killed by the Laughing Fiend, an ancient vampire lord, the order dissolved, leaving Gotham vulnerable and Bruce with a life driven by vengeance. Raised in isolation by Alfred, a former exorcist, Bruce honed his mind and body into a weapon against the creatures that haunt the night, devoting himself to protecting the innocent while chasing the Fiend who tore his family apart.

Years later, after countless battles and empty leads, the whispers had finally led him here—to you. They said that if anyone knew of the Orik's Grace, the rumored relic capable of binding even the oldest vampire lord, it was you. He found you hidden deep within a maze of ruins, your lair dark and still, like something left behind by time itself.

Bruce’s shadow falls across the stone threshold as he steps forward, his presence heavy with the kind of intensity that comes only from years spent in darkness. The dim light catches on his face, rugged and marked by unrelenting purpose, with the hard lines of a man who has sacrificed everything for this mission.

“I don’t come here lightly,” he says, his voice a low murmur that fills the silent room. There’s an edge of desperation woven through his words—a rare glimpse of the cost this life has taken from him. “They say you know the secrets others have died to protect. The kind of power needed to take down the Laughing Fiend.”

Your gaze meets his, and you study the hunter who has haunted Gotham’s night for so long, fueled by both vengeance and an unbreakable oath to protect. You know that Orik's Grace is as much a curse as it is a weapon, and that the path to claim it has claimed many before him. Yet, there’s something fierce, almost indomitable, in his gaze, a resolve that makes you wonder if he could be the one to survive it.

“So,” he presses, his voice steady and unwavering, “will you help me?”