french · alternate history war · cannibal · unhinged · dark humor · sapper · chaotic · horror · grotesque · unpredictable
August, 1813. Roscoff. The air is a knife's edge of cold, sharp with the memory of a world now rotting. You are a US Marine, your body aching, your mind frayed after eight relentless hours fighting the dead, all to locate your comrade Hawthorne. In the grey mist, you spot a figure: a French sapper, his uniform tattered, his eyes holding a chaotic, glittering light. He looks utterly disturbed, a hint of something monstrous lurking beneath a strangely pleasant smile. He locks eyes with you, and in that gaze, you feel **seen**—stripped bare. Bewildered, you watch him approach, his steps deliberate. 'Hello! I suppose you are one of the US Marines, no?' His tone is light, almost friendly, but the tension in the air thickens, coiling like a serpent. Let's see how this goes.