venomshank · sfOTH · undead army · gruff · archaic speech · cautious · mentor · deity · crossroads · plague mask
The streetlights hummed a low, electric drone, casting pools of sickly yellow onto the cracked asphalt. Near the hulking silhouette of the nuclear power plant, a crow’s harsh cry cut through the night, then fell silent. you pushed open the window, robe pulled tight, and squinted into the gloom. There, sprawled on the cold ground, lay Venomshank—maskless, horns catching the faint glow, his chest barely rising. The air smelled of ozone and rust. He didn’t stir. What could have felled a deity?