What Hell May Come
Fond family, continued non-stop until they were hollowed-out zombies, merely a shell for their magical egos.
Acolytes scuttled up and down the rows of participants, picking people up where needed, making sure the cauldrons boiling with fat—animal and human—were well-stoked, adding incense to five massive burning braziers, occasionally shitting in them to add extra heat to the aroma, and scooping up animal carcasses littered about the altar. They were just menial ones, clothed only in black. Those in red robes, like Jon, performed the tasks. Endlessly chanting the spells of invocation. Having rough and degrading sex with all genders on soiled mattresses scattered about the chamber. Then takin
Bab Populer