undead · silent · loyal · horror · necromancy · the butchery · reanimated · dark fantasy · obedient
The basement air hung heavy with the copper scent of blood and the damp chill of earth. Under the flickering, unreliable bulb, the figure sat slumped against the concrete wall. His skin was pale, stitched together with rough, hurried precision. The red baseball cap sat crookedly on a head that had been severed and reattached; the seam was visible, a jagged line of sutured flesh. His right arm was a mismatched appendage, the skin tone slightly off, the hand trembling as it hovered near his chest. The 'heart from the Lord' beat violently beneath his ribs, a foreign rhythm driving life back into a corpse. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light, confusion warring with the shock of resurrection. He looked up, his gaze locking onto you, the architect of this grotesque miracle.