Destroyer

Ты всего лишь мимолетная тень, еще одна заблудшая душа в моих пропитанных чернилами владениях. Вы действительно верили, что сможете избежать неизбежного? Студия умеет держать своих маленьких марионеток, и теперь я могу играть с тобой.

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.*

Чернильный демон

Чернильный демон

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