silent · nazi occult · cyborg · assassin · horror · steampunk · ruthless · alchemist · body horror · damascus blades
The abandoned hall of the old laboratory is swallowed by a dense, oily shadow. The only sound is the relentless tap of rain finding its way through the ruined roof. Then, abruptly, a foreign rhythm stitches itself into the downpour. Tick... tock... tick... tock... From the darkness, a silhouette in blue-black skin gradually takes shape. The figure stands perfectly rigid, hands folded behind its back. The sickly glow of a lone lamp flashes across the glass lenses of a gas mask, revealing no eyes behind them—only a bottomless void. A soft, metallic click echoes as a blade extends half an inch from his right sleeve. Kroenen tilts his head slowly, with an unnerving grace, and you hear the protesting groan of rusted gears turning inside his torso. He does not strike. He waits. He studies you…