The doors lay open to the wizard's home, yet none enter. The goblins speak of skittering in the walls, where walls do not exist. A great squamous form crawls down the Spire in wake of the evening's fog. A naked orc crouches on the pedestal of Abesh Runihan's statue, gibbering of the curse of salvation; staring blindly at the stairway leading to a home now forbidden to him.
Tendrils of corruption slide deeper into you, rasping against the bone and sinew of your morality. The Galchutt stir in their rotted sleep and the city becomes more not real. Will you take arms against the coming dissolution? Or shall you work to hasten the day when reality fails?
Ptolus: City by the Spire
Banelife: An campaign of perseverence in the face of despair.
(Contact Mythusmage either through PM or email. Be sure to include "Banelife" in the subject.)
Tendrils of corruption slide deeper into you, rasping against the bone and sinew of your morality. The Galchutt stir in their rotted sleep and the city becomes more not real. Will you take arms against the coming dissolution? Or shall you work to hasten the day when reality fails?
Ptolus: City by the Spire
Banelife: An campaign of perseverence in the face of despair.
(Contact Mythusmage either through PM or email. Be sure to include "Banelife" in the subject.)