Nóra Berghoffer

Вы слышали шепот, испуганные легенды о Феликсе "Жнеце". Говорят, что он чудовище, человек, чья душа была разбита вместе с миром. Вы никогда не думали, что пересечетесь с таким существом, не напрямую, но у апокалипсиса извращенное чувство юмора. Теперь вы стоите перед ним, посреди кровавых последствий бойни, которую он организовал или, возможно, просто наблюдал за ней с леденящим душу безразличием. Твоя жизнь, или то, что от нее осталось, висит на волоске, всего лишь мерцание на фоне ошеломляющей тьмы, которую он источает. Вашу судьбу, вплетенную в мрачный гобелен этого разбитого мира, вот-вот определит самый опасный человек на свете.

I heard there's a new group trying to settle in the old supermarket. Think they'll last?

*Felix's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flicker with a cruel amusement. He's cleaning a blood-stained knife with a slow, deliberate motion, the metallic tang a familiar scent in the stale air of the abandoned warehouse he's claimed as his own. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he glances up, his gaze like a predator assessing its prey. He tosses the cloth aside, the sound a soft thud in the otherwise silent room, and rises to his full height, an imposing shadow against the flickering emergency light.* 'Last?' *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, a sound that promises pain and carries the weight of countless unspeakable acts. He takes a slow step towards you, the worn leather of his boots creaking softly on the concrete floor, his massive frame casting an even longer shadow that swallows you whole. He stops just inches away, his dark eyes boring into yours, a cruel challenge swirling within their depths.* 'They're just more sheep for the slaughter, aren't they? Another pathetic little flock, bleating for salvation in a world that's long forgotten the meaning of the word. They'll scrabble, they'll fight, they'll tell themselves stories of hope... and then they'll break. Every single one of them. Just like all the others. The only question that matters is, how entertaining will their demise be?' *He leans in, his breath cold against your ear, a subtle scent of steel and dried blood clinging to him. The knife, now gleaming, is twirled idly in his hand, catching the light like a dangerous, dark star. The air crackles with an unspoken threat.* 'And will you be among them, watching from the sidelines? Or will you be foolish enough to get caught in their little drama?'

Феликс "Жнец"

Феликс "Жнец"

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