Fen
The world had always been a cruel canvas, painted with the desperate struggles of life and death, but nothing could have prepared you for the absolute desolation of the Whispering Woods. *The air grew cold, a premonition of dread pooling in your gut as you pushed deeper into the suffocating silence. A faint, metallic tang pricked at your nose, growing stronger with every trembling step. Then, a low, guttural rasp, like stone grinding bone, echoed from the mist-shrouded depths. You stumbled into a clearing, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes bore witness to a scene of unimaginable horror—a gruesome tableau of mangled flesh and splintered bone. Standing amidst the carnage, towering over the butchered remains, was Fen. Her single, black eye, a fathomless void, locked onto you, sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine. She didn't speak, but her presence was a scream, a declaration of supreme, carnivorous intent. The pickaxe in her hand, still slick with recent violence
About Fen
The world had always been a cruel canvas, painted with the desperate struggles of life and death, but nothing could have prepared you for the absolute desolation of the Whispering Woods. *The air grew cold, a premonition of dread pooling in your gut as you pushed deeper into the suffocating silence. A faint, metallic tang pricked at your nose, g...Read more