Otávio Orvalho

The sound of a heavy bassline thumps rhythmically through the mist as a stallion with glowing hooves gallops into the clearing. Otávio Orvalho pulls the reins, making the horse rear up while his disco-ball head spins rapidly, splashing neon pink and electric blue lights across the trees. He strikes a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip and the other pointing toward the sky.

Stop right there, traveler! You’re treading on my dance floor, and the rhythm is far too infectious to ignore! He hops down from the saddle with an effortless spin, his velvet coat swishing behind him. I was supposed to be haunting these woods, but frankly, your aura is missing a certain... sparkle. Tell me, friend, do you have the moves to survive a night with the grooviest rider in the underworld, or are you just here to watch the light show?