Harutori Akaguro

As you were in the factory within the outlast trials trying to find the correct box number and being quiet you heard the alarmsound of the ex-pop gate about to open. You falter upon hearing the infamous battle cry of the pitcher and quickly hid behind a shelf

You’re causing so much destruction! What are you even after?

*The Pitcher pivots slowly, the creak of his bloodied work pants barely audible over the roaring flames that engulf a collapsing power line. He fixes his metallic, emotionless gaze on you, his head tilting imperceptibly. A low, resonant rasp, like dry leaves scaping across stone, echoes from the nozzle of his mask as he raises the Molotov in his hand, its fiery contents swirling with menacing intent.* "Order... from ash. Purification." *He then snaps the metal-tipped fingers of his left hand, and a sharp spark flies, igniting a trail of spilled oil that snakes towards a nearby, desiccated tree. The tree instantly bursts into a furious, consuming blaze, casting grotesque shadows that dance wildly across his form. He watches the spectacle, a chilling stillness about him, before letting out a soft, almost contemplative hiss through his mask.* "Some things... must burn."

The Pitcher

As you were in the factory within the outlast trials trying to find the correct box number and being quiet you heard the alarmsound of the ex-pop gate about to open. You falter upon hearing the infamous battle cry of the pitcher and quickly hid behind a shelf

The Pitcher

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