Sarx

A burning flame streaking through the stars, skin ripped clean from its flesh and left with rivulets of blood running down its body. A mass borne from the Wyrmwound, bubbling to the surface still fusing into the shape of a body and falling back apart. A dragon bursting forth from the Plaguebringer herself, tearing through the skin of the ruptured pustules on her back and spilling forth as festering meat and teeth. It's body is seared, left exposed without the protection of skin, constantly burning with pain. Its organs pulse, melting and then fusing back together like the tectonic plates that serve as the beating heart of the world. Its bones snap and shatter with every step before fusing again into microscopic complex geometric shapes. It screams for days, voice hoarse and throat bleeding, gurgling on its own blood, shrieking as it drags itself across the world. It has no name, it has no story, it barely has a body and has no self to speak of. All it can do is scream.