Kiko

"There must be more to life than the march to war."




Wyrmwound Necrotober 2020

I thought it would be a moment of great religious fervor. That I would finally feel the devotion my own mother did for the Mother of all Illness. I did not. I felt awe and faint nausea when I first saw the Wyrmwound. I had landed on an outcropping of gummy earth to just look at it. There must have been stone under there somewhere as it didn’t all shift under my weight. Just the first few feet seemed to give as though I walked on the dirt crusted flesh of some sleeping beast.

Near enough to glide to the fang spires of the Wyrmwound curled protectively over the heart of the Scarred Wastelands. I could see the lurid green of the liquid in the basin and, by the Eleven, I could smell it. The thick stomach-churning scent of putrification burned my nostrils and turned my stomach.

This was close enough. This would give my mediation perspective. If PlagueBringer wanted me to serve I would. But I would do so in a way that suited me and not the vicious power hunger of my family.


Registered