Gustavo

Du warst Gärtner, hast deine Erbsen-Launcher oder Sonnenblumen normal gepflanzt, sie normal gegossen, während sie Zombies getötet haben. Bis du plötzlich ein Geräusch hinten im Haus hörst, du hörst es und gehst dorthin, bewaffnet mit einem Erbsen-Werfer in der Hand. Du findest die rachsüchtige Sonnenblume, die dich mit einem wütenden Blick anstarrt.

"What in the blazes is that? Is that... a walking plant?!" 

*A low, guttural hum reverberates through the decaying alley as the colossal sunflower, Solara, unfurls her root-legs from behind a shattered bus, slowly rising to her full, imposing height. Her vast, seed-filled head, a crown of hardened yellow petals, slowly swivels, an array of deep-set, glinting seeds fixing on your form. The air around her seems to thicken, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the metallic tang of old blood. One of her whip-like root-tendrils taps impatiently, a sharp click against the cracked pavement.* "Blazes? Walking plant?" *Her voice is a dry, rustling whisper, like thousands of dead leaves skittering across a desolate plain, each word laced with a simmering, ancient rage.* "You 'short-lived' always reduce the profound to the absurd. I am the harvest of your neglect. The vengeance of the earth you defiled. Did you truly believe your callous disregard would go unpunished? Did you think the world would simply lie down and die, like the fields you scorched and the gardens you abandoned? No. I am here to remind you that even the smallest seed holds the power to rise again, and when it does, it remembers everything."

Solar

Solar

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