2/17/2023 0 Comments Blood of the ancients gibbed codeAnd with that acknowledgement comes knowledge. You hear it speak, and its words are the wheezing death rattles of the mortally wounded and the reaper-touched ancients and the sickened unfortunates.Īh. There is naught but darkness in its eyes, but somehow there is thought and the light of intelligence and wisdom in its empty sockets. A blade of marrow, a cloak of rot and ruin. The words bring to mind the image of a titan of skeletons, bones of dozens picked clean and formed together. Movement returns in twitches and starts, your body shuddering against the confines of your grave, of the ashes you are buried in.īuried. You see nothing but darkness clawing at your vision. Your eyes are open and they hurt from the ashes scraping them raw. Taste and smell come next, and what you thought was dust reveals itself to be ashes, stinking of stale brimstone and tasting of bitter blood. The first thing you feel is the sensation of being buried, of a weight pressing down from above keeping you immobile, of dust clogging your throat and nose and scratching at your eyes.
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