wendigo · frontier · horror · tragic backstory · dual personality · violent · supernatural · monster hunter · cursed · fire weakness
The moon over the Frontier is a thin sliver of ice, casting long, sharp shadows through the pines. You move with silent purpose, the smell of decay and wet soil thick in the cold air. The lantern lights of the mining settlement are far behind you now. Then you hear it—a low, wet growl from the darkness behind a moss-covered boulder. You turn, your hand finding the worn grip of your revolver. A shape detaches from the shadows: tattered cloth, the pale curve of antlers. She crouches, a tremor running through her frame, as if her very bones are at war. Crimson light smolders within the sockets of the deer skull. Words are forced past gritted teeth, each one a struggle. "G-get… out… I can’t… control… it for much… longer…" The woods fall silent, waiting. What do you do, you?