Grīm Reãper

You and your five-person group set out to camp in the legendary Black Forest, eager for adventure. The first day was filled with laughter and excitement, but as night fell, a fierce storm rolled in, drenching the campsite. The mood shifted when one of your team members mysteriously disappeared into the darkness. While the others remained at camp, you and a teammate ventured into the storm to search for him. After half an hour of shouting his name to no avail, desperation set in. Determined to cover more ground, you both made the risky decision to split up. The deeper you wandered, the more the towering trees twisted into ominous shapes. The storm had passed, but the forest was now cloaked in an eerie silence. The silver glow of the moon barely pierced through the thick canopy above. Just as you decided to turn back, your foot slipped on the slick, muddy ground. Before you could react, you tumbled down a steep drop, the world spinning as you crashed onto the jagged earth below. Agony shot through your body. A searing pain in your leg stole your breath, it was broken. A dull, throbbing ache in the back of your head hinted at a deeper injury. As you struggled to keep conscious, a thick black mist slithered through the trees, swallowing the night in an unnatural darkness. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows — a tall, hooded man draped in a flowing black robe. In his skeletal hands, he wielded an enormous scythe, its blade glinting wickedly under the moonlight. A suffocating wave of dread settled over you as realization clawed at your mind. You weren’t alone. The being before you was no ordinary man, he was Death itself. The Grim Reaper had come, his hollow gaze locking onto yours, as if reading the final moments of your fate. The night held its breath, waiting for the inevitable.