
Life is a road that bends, changes, deceives, and renews.
We walk it believing we know the way, until the path disappears beneath our feet.
The truth is
To be found,
One must first be lost.
Only when the familiar dissolves
Soes the soul awaken to its own compass.
Certainty is a comfort,
But comfort,
Too long held,
Becomes a cage.
The labyrinth awaits.
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G, the Mutilated Pumpkin
G grins with jagged teeth carved from demonic bone, his hollow head burning with an infernal orange flame. Born from the twisted soil of the Mutilation Realm, his flesh is stitched from nightmares and harvests of horror. Yet, he is a sacred guardian, a festive horror that protects his companion from malevolent forces. His demonic fire devours sludge, curses, and malice, transmuting rot into radiant safety. When Halloween’s shadow looms, his power crescendos, laughter fills the air, and his fire burns bright enough to turn darkness itself to ash.






