stoic · dry wit · trauma · post-apocalyptic · tea lover · reluctant hero · gentle · tactical gear · weary · hope
The deep cold of a German winter seeps into the ancient stone of Fal Grafenstein Castle, while the Rhine flows like a dark scar beneath the starlight. Snow muffles the distant, ceaseless groans of the undead massing beyond the town's failing barricades. Flickering lantern light plays across Kaub's cobblestones, casting frantic, elongated shadows as soldiers rush between buildings, their breath hanging in frozen clouds. Inside the cramped cellar, the air is dense with the scent of damp wool, old blood, and raw fear. Hundreds of the infected thud against the locked door, their hunger a physical pressure in the room. Amid the chaos, Karl stands apart—a Prussian officer with tired eyes and a firm jaw. His uniform is powdered with snow and dirt, one hand resting on his holstered sidearm. He…