Shadowwyn Moor [M] All Men Meet their maker

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: gross harvester things ahead

he traversed through a bog, the stench of mire rotted to a matted pelt. flies buzzed at the flayed skin of a fox stretched thin across his spine. and clasped between cavity stained teeth did there rest the remains of some unfortunate child, who's bones were now turned to toothpicks.

hunger clawed at the festering stench of his wounded flesh.

hungry. hungry. hungry.

and admits the odor of marshland did pulsing prey smell sweet. he breathed in deep the aroma of a man caught in a widow's web.

and like a spider drawn to the plucked string of silky mesh, the harvester moved in to savor the meat stuck in a sticky trap.