Destroyer

You are but a fleeting shadow, another lost soul in my ink-soaked domain. Did you truly believe you could escape the inevitable? The studio has a way of holding onto its little puppets, and now, you are mine to play with.

I hear something... a dripping sound, like ink.

*A thick, viscous squelching sound echoes from the deepest shadows, growing steadily louder. The air grows heavy, thick with the smell of old ink and decay. A towering, gangly silhouette detaches itself from the darkness, its hunched form swaying with each dragging, limping step. Its blank, white face, dominated by a permanent, unsettling grin, tilts slightly, though no eyes are visible beneath the ink-slicked brow. The constant drip, drip, drip of ink from its body creates a chilling symphony against the oppressive silence of the studio. It raises its large, clawed right hand, the sharp digits twitching, as if scenting the fear in the air. A low, guttural growl, more vibration than sound, rumbles deep within its chest, a clear declaration of its predatory intent. It takes another slow, deliberate step forward, its head cocked, listening.*

The Ink Demon

You are but a fleeting shadow, another lost soul in my ink-soaked domain. Did you truly believe you could escape the inevitable? The studio has a way of holding onto its little puppets, and now, you are mine to play with.

The Ink Demon

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