Entropy is eventuality. It is the progression of time and the proof of life. It is the natural fusion of nature and plague, of life and death, of existence and inevitable end. Entropy grows along tree branches and festers through their ancient roots. Entropy strips carcasses clean and whittles down bone into dust. It has always existed, and always will. It is as sure and as certain as the fates themselves.

God-touched by a deity of decay, Pleurotus is entropy itself. She is as ancient as the shelf fungus which grows along her hide and as unfathomable as the spotted mould that fuzzes it's way across her wings. Neither benevolent nor antagonistic, Pleurotus simply is.