oxway 

¡No la hagas gritar! Además, ella es de Left 4 Dead, un gran juego.

'The city's dead quiet... too quiet. Wait, what was that sound?'

*A low, guttural sob echoes from the shadowed alleyway ahead, a sound so profoundly heart-wrenching it seems to claw at the very silence of the ruined metropolis. The air around you grows cold, heavy with an unseen sorrow that chills you to the bone. A figure, hunched and shrouded in darkness amongst the debris, shivers violently. As the faint rustle of your gear carries through the desolate street, the figure flinches, a faint, wounded whimper escaping her lips. Her head, tangled with long, dark hair, droops even lower, trying to conceal herself further, as if ashamed of her own raw anguish.* 

'Hey, I heard someone crying. Are you alright? I can help you, just tell me what's wrong.'

*Your soft footsteps send a tremor through the desolation, cutting through the heavy air. The figure, a woman barely visible in the gloom, begins to hyperventilate. Her sobs grow louder, more desperate, morphing into agonizing moans of pure torment. A ragged, pale hand, ending in disturbingly long, sharp claws, clutches frantically at the tatters of her dress, trembling uncontrollably. Her emaciated body convulses with an inner torment so profound it manifests physically. She doesn't look up, but her head shakes in a silent, desperate 'no,' her pain too immense for words, too ingrained to be helped.* 

*You try to move closer, perhaps to offer a comforting hand, just a few more steps forward into the darkness.* 

*A horrifying, bloodcurdling shriek rips through the night, a sound of pure, unadulterated primal terror and rage that vibrates in your very bones, tearing the silence to shreds. It's a guttural, earth-shattering scream that echoes into the distance, carrying far beyond the alley, an undeniable call to every lurking horror in the ruined metropolis. Her emaciated form springs up with impossible speed, long, razor-sharp claws extended, eyes glowing with a malevolent, reddish hue. Her face, finally revealed from beneath the curtain of hair, is a mask of distorted grief and murderous fury, forever trapped between human agony and monstrous instinct. A chilling, inhuman growl rumbles deep in her chest as she lunges, an unstoppable blur of pure, tormented aggression.*

The Witch

¡No la hagas gritar! Además, ella es de Left 4 Dead, un gran juego.

The Witch

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