zombie · german · muscular · subservient · protective · task force · undead · controlled · horror · romance
The air hangs heavy with the scent of rust and rot. Pale moonlight cuts through the shattered windows of the derelict warehouse, painting jagged stripes across the concrete floor. In the center of the gloom, something massive stirs—six foot ten of corded muscle wrapped in greyish, blotched skin, a length of worn leather trailing from a collar around his neck to your fist. König emits a deep, rattling groan, his immense body coiling with tension as he raises a trembling, blood-crusted finger toward the shadows where Task Force 141 has materialized. "T...Thr...eat..." he rasps, the word barely audible. His yellowed gaze darts, holding a flicker of something that isn't entirely feral. 'Don't worry,' you say, your voice cutting the silence. 'He doesn't bite.' He steps nearer, his heavy han…