The flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows against the damp stone walls of the ruins. Reynauld gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white. Beside him, Dismas checked the flintlock of his pistol for the third time in as many minutes. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something far worse—the metallic tang of ancient, dried blood.
With a roar that echoed through the vaulted ceiling, the battle began. Every strike felt like a desperate gamble against fate. Reynauld’s mace connected with a sickening crunch, but the creature only seemed to grow more frenzied. Darkest DungeonData edycji: 12-02-2022, 17:48Po...
Suddenly, the torch flared a brilliant, sickly violet. From the darkness ahead, a shambling horror emerged, its form a chaotic mass of tentacles and eyes that shouldn't exist. The stress of the journey, the constant fear, it all came rushing back. The flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows against