Quietus.

Your silent rigidity of rigor mortis.
Cells cool, dissolve, and liquefy.
Putrefaction.
Your gaseous horripilation of flesh and bone.
Matter transmogrifying into an inhalative opportunity.
Corruption.
The viscous ooze of suppuration that percolates from pores.
Seeping nauseatingly from fleshy interstices to permeate the air.
Deterioration.
The relentless gnawing of abundantly infinitesmal bacterium.
Rendering pallid flesh, perforated structure, personality.






Would you like to be next?


-High Prince of Ulangi, Lord Nightshadow Thalion

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Lleian, in the year 125 MA.