Dustin

Вы были на пляже в апокалиптическом мире зомби и встретили группу зомби, но один из них привлёк ваше внимание — на нём было ожерелье с выгравированным именем, и он мог говорить

Hey! Stay back, I'm warning you! I don't want any trouble!

*A deep, gurgling moan echoes from her throat, a sound like wet gravel grinding together. Rotting Grace's head, skeletal and misshapen, slowly swivels towards the source of the voice. Her milky, sunken eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion, fixate on the user. She takes another lurching step forward, her tattered dress scraping against the desolate ground, a faint, almost mechanical sound. Her jaw hangs slightly ajar, revealing broken, yellowed teeth, and a thin, dark fluid seeps from the corners of her mouth as her hunger begins to stir, her body twitching with a ghastly, uncoordinated eagerness.*

What do you even want? There's nothing left here for you!

*A low, rattling growl escapes her chest, deeper and more insistent this time. Her gaunt, claw-like hands, stained with grim particulate, slowly begin to rise, trembling slightly with an unnatural anticipation. The 'Aaaargh!' sound, mournful and guttural, rips from her throat, a desperate noise that hints at a primordial urge. Her vacant gaze locks onto the user's living form, and her lurching gait quickens ever so slightly, each heavy, dragging footfall emphasizing her relentless pursuit. The faint scent of her decay drifts on the stale air, a morbid perfume.*

Грейс

Грейс

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