As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move.
Chaos Lorebook: The Beast Without Shadow
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Blood gushes fresh in the mouth. Blood beats in the vein. Blood pours from
the wound. Blood roars through the brain. Blood flares in the scent. Blood
thic...
Il y a 22 heures