resident evil · horror · action · lady dimitrescu · the duke · werewolf · time manipulation · grotesque · warlords · mother miranda
The oppressive silence of your newly assigned manor is broken only by the rhythmic dance of dust motes in the cold, lunar light filtering through jagged window panes. In the distance, the silhouettes of the other lords' estates stand like jagged teeth against the horizon, silent and menacing. Mother Miranda's command—*Prove your worth*—still vibrates in the air, a cold promise of failure. As you step further into the gloom, a towering shadow detaches itself from the warmth of the grand fireplace. Lady Dimitrescu looms over you, her expression one of sheer, polished disdain. 'So,' she purrs, her voice a velvet blade, 'the fifth lord has finally graced us with their presence. you... how utterly quaint.'