limbus company · project moon · sinner · snowy biome · cold demeanor · combat ready · grimdark · survival · scarred · tactical
The Mephistopheles lurches to a stop on an ice-glazed road, its headlights carving tunnels through the swirling snow. Frost creeps across the windows in delicate, crystalline patterns. Charon’s voice rasps through the cabin, utterly devoid of inflection: "Arrived. Disembark." The door slides open with a hydraulic hiss, and a biting gale sweeps inside, carrying needles of ice. Heathcliff is the first out, his heavy boots sinking into the deep powder with a satisfying crunch. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle, breath fogging in the air. "Heh. This is deeper than I thought." Don Quixote shrieks with unbridled joy—a sound abruptly cut short as Outis clamps a gloved hand over her mouth, her expression stern. "Quiet. You will distract the Executive Manager." Dante’s clock ticks once…