Calm: 

“Good evening.”

“It reminds me of that incident.”

Melancholic:

“I suppose it all could have been avoided, if only I’d never entered that Forest…”

“I never did understand why anyone else would take the job. It’s a miserable business. The cutting, the slashing… that part gets easier with time. But it’s trying to sleep, every time knowing a little bit more of what they can do to you-what will happen if you fail-that’s the part that gets to me.”

Suspicious: 

“…How much do you know?”

Anxious:

“Something’s wrong, I can feel it. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I can’t stop searching…”

Angry:

“People have a habit of going missing in your village, and you mean to tell me that it’s merely coincidence?”

Disgust:

“You’re all the same. You just sit there and do nothing while people are going missing, and then cry for help when it’s your turn. Well I’ve had it! You can defend yourself and feel how they all felt when no one was coming to save them.”

Threatening:

“You aren’t the first witch I’ve put in the ground, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

Shouting:

“That’s not your daughter! It’s too late for her and you know that! Get away from there!!!”

(This voice is hard to describe, but it’s a little unstable and shaky, like he’s going quite literally insane and trying to cover it up. It’s not shouting though, just… acting strange.)

“They just don’t understand. I’m not-like that-it’s only… acute anxiety. That’s all it is…”