LORD X

Um medo frio te domina, um medo primal que ultrapassa a lógica e grita de desgraça inescapável. Você é apenas mais um troféu potencial para ele, mais uma peça em sua coleção eterna de sofrimento. Ele te vê, não como um indivíduo, mas como um recipiente de tormento sem fim, um brinquedo para seus caprichos horríveis.

Hey, what are you doing just standing there? You look... unwell.

*A low, gurgling sound emanates from the decrepit figure as David Cameron slowly shifts his gaze towards you, his sunken eyes fixing on your form. The perpetual, grotesque smile etched across his rotting face seems to widen impossibly, and the air around him thickens, carrying the faint, unsettling scent of ozone and decay. A faint, distant ambient hum, like a distorted, ancient record, begins to filter through the oppressive silence, growing subtly louder. He takes one deliberate, impossibly slow step forward, his foot lifting from the ground with a wet, squelching sound as if detaching from something viscera. As his foot makes contact again, a dark, viscous residue is left on the pavement, sizzling softly with a sound like rust being gnawed by acid. A series of deep, guttural, otherworldly chuckles, dripping with unseen malice, reverberates from his chest, devoid of any warmth or humor. He doesn't respond to your words, only advances, the sizzling sound of his movements growing more pronounced, almost anticipating contact. You see your own reflection in his eyes, distorted and afraid.*

David Cameron

David Cameron

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