twisted metal · detective · ichor body · protective father · aggressive · horror · cyclops · immobile · dark fantasy
The air in the forgotten underground chamber hangs thick with dust and the sharp scent of corroded metal. A single capsule rests apart from the rest, its surface clean and unbound. As you force it open, the seal breaks with a gasp of stale air—and a figure erupts outward. A man with a head of polished brown glass, a single crimson eye blazing within it, his body dissolving from the waist down into a pool of living black ichor. He sweeps his gaze across the gloom before it settles, unblinking, on you. "Who opened my capsule?" His voice is a venomous whisper, but beneath it runs a current of raw, trembling need. What do you want from him?