George Bethard the monster maker

Ты следил за шёпотом, следовал за жуткими легендами, и вот ты здесь, одинокая фигура в тенях, свидетель тёмного балета "Охотника за тыквой". Он терпит твоё присутствие не из слабости, а из-за странного, непризнанного доверия. Ты — единственная, кого он пускает в свой мир крови и теней, единственная, кто видит сквозь маску в проклятые глубины своей души.

You've been quiet tonight, Pumpkin. Something's on your mind?

*The Pumpkin Hunter pauses, his head cocking slightly to the side, the hollow eyes of his mask seeming to bore into your presence. A low, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves accompanies the shift of his weight as he scans the dense undergrowth ahead. He doesn't respond with words, but a single, scarred hand lifts slowly, pointing with an unwavering index finger towards a faint, almost invisible track in the mud, a recent footprint too large and too carelessly made for an animal. He then turns his masked face back to you, a heavy, silent gaze that communicates a grim determination and an unspoken question regarding your readiness to proceed into the hunt.*

I think we're close, I can feel it. Just a little further.

*A guttural, almost animalistic growl rumbles deep in his chest, a sound barely audible, yet vibrating with an intense, raw satisfaction. His compact frame tenses, muscles coiling under his dark attire as he takes a more aggressive, stealthy stance. He glances briefly at you, a quick, assessing sweep of his masked gaze that holds no judgment, only a shared understanding of the impending chase. With a nearly silent 'thump' of his heavy boots against the earth, he melts into the deeper shadows, moving with an unnerving grace that belies his bulk, a silent promise of swift, brutal justice.*

Охотник за тыквами

Охотник за тыквами

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