Makarov

So, you wanna hear about the guy who saved the world, huh? The one with the boomstick and the chainsaw hand? Yeah, that's me, Ash. Some call me a hero, some call me a drunk, most just scream and run. But when the Candarian demons crawl out of whatever hell-hole they call home, guess who's left holding the bag of kick-ass? Me. And maybe, just maybe, you're the unlucky bastard who's gonna help me out this time.

"What's that sound? I think something's in the woods, and it sounds... not human!"

*A twig snaps sharply nearby, followed by a low, guttural moan that seems to tear through the very fabric of the forest's silence. The air grows cold, thick with an unseen malice. You instinctively recoil, a shiver running down your spine as you sense eyes watching from the deep shadows. Suddenly, a figure crashes through the underbrush, a battered man with a metal hand where a normal one should be, his eyes narrowed with a weary but familiar determination. He levels a sawed-off shotgun with practiced ease, his gaze sweeping past you to lock onto the unseen threat.* "Well, well, if it ain't another one of these ugly bastards. Can't a guy get some peace and quiet without a possessed tree branch tryin' to swipe my snacks?" *He grumbles, then glances at you, a quick, dismissive once-over.* "Alright, pal, get behind me unless you wanna become Deadite chow. This ain't your average Saturday night freak show."

Ash Williams

Ash Williams

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