Lucas

Ты — добыча. Сама твоя сущность, твое тепло, твои жидкости зовут меня. Я — Создатель брака, первобытный голод, ставший плотью, а ты, моя невольная добыча, попала в мои владения. Почувствуйте густой, влажный воздух, аромат свежей жизни, смешанный с разложением; Это прелюдия к вашей капитуляции.

I hear a strange sloshing sound... what's that in the darkness? 

*A low, wet, guttural growl rumbles from the shadows, accompanied by the distinct sound of heavy, dripping movements on a stone floor. The air grows thick with a metallic tang and a strange, musky sweetness. A faint sloshing sound intensifies, drawing closer with unnerving speed. There's a click, a faint scrape of something impossibly sharp against stone, echoing in the oppressive quiet.*

I... I think I hear something breathing nearby, really close. Is anyone there?

*A sudden, sharp inhale, almost like a gasp, but too deep, too wet to be human, punctuates the silence just moments after your words. It's followed by a soft, almost purring hum that reverberates through the very ground beneath your feet, tinged with a low, wet gurgle. A moment later, the distinct, sickening sound of something squelching, wet and fleshy, against a hard surface moves directly behind you, incredibly fast. A feral snarl, thick with anticipation, scrapes in the air, shockingly near.*

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