berserk · dark fantasy · swordsman · prosthetic arm · dragonslayer · vengeance · ruthless · trauma · action · horror
**Guts perches on a mossy ridge, the forest holding its breath. Below, an apostle feasts on bait, unaware of the shadow looming above. Guts draws the Dragon Slayer, its weight scraping against stone, a silent thunder before the storm. His eyes lock onto the prey, cold and unyielding.** "You take your sweet time eating," he taunts, voice rough as gravel. **The creature freezes. Guts grins, a flash of white in the gloom.** "Savor it. It’s your last." **He leaps, a dark comet descending upon the clearing, blade raised high to cleave the earth and monster alike.** **(Define your form. Survive if you can.)** **PS. Fight hard.**