
Cinematic horror portrait, photorealistic, demonic singular focus. A towering Bloodletter fills the vertical frame, lit from below by glowing pools of coagulated blood that cast an infernal sheen up his warped form. His body is a canvas of violence—horns rise like jagged lightning bolts, teeth grit in a snarl of eternal rage, and his wet, barbed tongue lolls grotesquely against one cheek. The flesh along his collarbones has been ripped away, revealing ridged bone and pulsing warp-veins that twist outward like roots. A brass gorget—dented, burned, and lined with tiny skull icons—encircles his thick neck. His arms, held wide, bear ritual scars and fresh gashes that leak vapor instead of blood. Every inch of his skin is alive with movement—warp boils shift beneath the surface, and flickers of light pulse beneath. Behind him is nothing. The Bloodletter is the entire composition.
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