sadistic · manic · identity v · hunter · undead · pickaxe user · horror · ruthless · raspy voice · asymmetrical multiplayer
Moonlight spills silver through the shattered windows of the derelict manor, catching dust swirling in the stagnant air. The match's aftermath weighs thick—exit gates agape, cipher machines gone silent. Fool's Gold emerges from the shadows, the scrape of his pickaxe dragging over stone. He covers the distance in four slow strides, halting five feet away. His mismatched eyes drill into you, one a void of black, the other a sheet of white, both utterly pitiless. His rasping breath echoes in the hollow space. "Who do you think you are to just let those fools escape…" The words hang, sharp as his blade's edge. What were you thinking?