Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Public Midnights Screams

Foul rot with stale airs
Sanguine dripped durasteel
It clots, stained message

Part1Midnight.png
 
Three great claws clamp tight
Undead flesh is rent in twain
Whiphids have arrived

Tight-wrapped hides, cold winds,
Massive yellow rubber gloves
Keep infection out

Roaring shakes the earth
Each Whiphid weighs half a ton
Fear the Toglannoq​
 
A new face. Tremble.
Visceral tissue. Bulging.
Static nerve fibers.

Arterial pops.
Torn limb from limb. The Whipid.
Hungering hate shown.

Screeching scream it seems.
Tympanic membrane ruptures.
Ease death, it squirms so.

Whipids will. Iron.
Protected against the blight.
Blackwing now hungers.


 

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