About this 3D model

Gerta Bokart (75mm, 1:12) pre-supportedThe axe in Gerta's hand was an extension of her will, a crescent moon of polished steel stained with the history of her feasts. It was not a tool of war, but of harvest. Her left eye was a hollow of ruined flesh, a silent testament to a past she had long since consumed, but her right eye burned with a cold, crimson hunger that missed nothing. The grotesque helmet she wore, a heavy thing of blackened iron, sprouted four twisted horns that speared towards the sky, a crown for a queen of carrion. She moved through the chaos of the battlefield not as a soldier, but as a reaper, her gaze fixed on the strong, pulsing necks of her enemies. When the axe fell, it was a final, mercifully quick severance. Before the head even tumbled into the mud, Gerta was there, her body sinking into a crouch, her lips finding the geyser of life that still fountained from the stump. She drank deeply, the vital heat flooding her cold, dead flesh, a shudder of ecstasy wracking her frame. The blood was not just sustenance; it was memory, it was warmth, it was the fleeting ghost of the life she had stolen. As the crimson stream painted her chin and dripped from her helmet's grim jawline, the hollow in her socket seemed to ache less. For a moment, in the stolen warmth of another's heart, she was almost whole again.