Quote: | They'd come to him in his sleep, speaking to him in voices sepulchral and grim, faded with time. They'd shown him the armies of the Ridden, hollow shells of men and women who's souls had been devoured and replaced with the black slag of the creatures from beyond the demon gate. |
I mean now, cummon! This is just liquid gold poetic prose happening here! I've been thinking about this line ever since I read it, over and over, trying to pick it to bits and figure out how to adopt some of the thinking that went into this line. Its coming from a place far beyond my skills and I'm desperate to figure out how to capture the essence here. |