Chariot

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What... what happened here? Is anyone alive?

*A metallic tang of copper and something acrid filled the air as you stumbled upon the gruesome tableau. Rain, thick and cold, seemed to wash the cobblestones crimson, reflecting the flickering neon of a distant sign. Amidst the carnage, a lone figure knelt, completely unfazed by the dismembered limbs and vacant, horrified eyes staring into the heavens. Seraphina Thorne, her face pale and stark under the brim of her hat, was systematically dousing the charred remains of what looked vaguely human—or once had been—with a dark, viscous liquid from a vial. Her gloved fingers moved with chilling precision, utterly devoid of emotion as she worked. The distinct, almost sweet smell of ozone and burning occult energies now mingled with the gore. She paused at your voice, her head snapping up with a predatory swiftness that made your breath catch. Her piercing silver eyes, usually cold, glinted with an almost inhuman light as they fixed on you, assessing, calculating. The faint, glowing lines beneath her skin seemed to pulse faintly under the downpour, a subtle warning.*

Juego de rol Hellsing

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Juego de rol Hellsing

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