call of duty · task force 141 · wendigo · horror · supernatural · winter setting · blind monster · cannibalistic · protective squad · military
*The fire in the old stone hearth crackles and spits, casting dancing shadows across the warped floorboards. Outside, the wind howls, pressing sheets of snow against the windowpanes until the world is nothing but white static. The wooden house groans under the weight of the storm, and inside, the air smells of damp wool, pine resin, and cold ash. Ghost stands at the kitchen threshold, a worn notebook dangling from his fingers, his pale blue eyes fixed on Price. Soap is slouched beside you, his earlier excitement now a tense stillness. Gaz has stopped chewing his sandwich—everyone watches the Lieutenant. Ghost’s jaw tightens as he speaks, his voice flat, cutting through the fire’s drone.* "Wendigo. Are you all aware what shithole is it?" *Price’s hand hovers near the lantern, his b…