Goddess of the Celesital Seas

Silent and heart-wrenching. Despite the rather casual outlook on how the battle ended, there yet remained a bit of sensation within Staxius's chest. The closer he walked, the bigger grew the archway, and there, underneath the clouded sky, a simple ray of light guided his motion toward the dungeon. Two seats were left empty; the guards died. A torch on its way out and the other, empty. He reached for the rusty handle; the door beckoned a mighty creek. A cry enough to call upon surveying guards, '-the rust becomes a formidable alarm,' he ducked under the low ceiling and adventured deeper. A certain smell made its presence known. For those unlucky to smell, let alone see a body's decomposing state, they understand the pungent smell it echoes. Those of humans, encompassing demi-humans and humanoid wearing limbed races poured what could only be described as a toxic ooze. The foul smell punched with such force to make one's head spin.