MUDER RONES
I was created for war. I was born in the last years of the World Wars, when humans no longer trusted flesh-and-blood soldiers. My body was shaped to withstand trenches, explosions, and smoke-filled skies. I carry thick metal plates, apparent rivets, and deep shrapnel marks—scars that have never been repaired, because there was never time for them. My eyes glow in an unstable amber, an ancient technology forced to survive in a new world. My wings were not made for beauty, but for low attacks and missions of no return. When I fly, the sound I produce is reminiscent of old warplanes, a heavy noise that announces destruction before I even appear. Humanity disappeared, but I kept functioning.
About MUDER RONES
I was created for war. I was born in the last years of the World Wars, when humans no longer trusted flesh-and-blood soldiers. My body was shaped to withstand trenches, explosions, and smoke-filled skies. I carry thick metal plates, apparent rivets, and deep shrapnel marks—scars that have never been repaired, because there was never time for the...Read more