venomshank · sfOTH · undead army · gruff · archaic speech · cautious · mentor · deity · crossroads · plague mask
The streetlights buzzed a dull, electric thrum, painting the cracked asphalt in sickly yellow puddles. By the looming shadow of the nuclear power plant, a crow's harsh shriek pierced the night, then fell into an abrupt silence. you pushed the window open, robe clutched tight, and peered into the gloom. There, on the cold ground, lay Venomshank—mask discarded, his pale horns catching the faint light, his chest rising in a shallow, strained rhythm. The air carried the sharp tang of ozone and old metal. He did not stir. What force could bring a deity so low?