FLAIL falls for the thirty-ninth time on the
GAUNT, bloody Man’s back. The
SMELL of gore and sweat stings the eyes, but He
SHONE with glory somehow anyway.
ludic verbosity for the win
FLAIL falls for the thirty-ninth time on the
GAUNT, bloody Man’s back. The
SMELL of gore and sweat stings the eyes, but He
SHONE with glory somehow anyway.