Day 23
What else was supposed to happen to this wretched corpse?
The 23rd day dawned, and the still body lied there. The overseers watched with bated breath, looking for even a twitch from the sludge-ichor that surrounded the body, or maybe the body itself.
It was with a heavy sigh of relief that, when night fell, no further agitations occurred.
The Shade did not tolerate failure; the sludge had, presumably, already eaten it's failed host alive, and there would be no further leakage.
Just to be safe, a lone Necromancer was left to observe the ruined corpse, to ensure the Shade faded from this place entirely and, if not, to help in disposing of the leftover ichor.
...
In the middle of the night, the lone observer shrieked in terror.
Instead of staying dead as it should, the ichor clung back onto it's host's body. A terrible cacophony of cracks and shifting, of sinews and bones being re-aligned into their original shape, of decay being undone.
Though they did their best to keep the shade-beast from leaving, the creature drank their magic upon mere touch, hungry and desperate.
And then it fled.
With a cracked, dripping smile and a body corroded by ichor and pestilent growths, it fled into the night.
After all...
What better host was there than one already eradicated?
Stelsora is dead by all measures, but the Fell Beast roams at large. What a terrible way to fail, what a spectacular way to die.
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