Hairy Henry's Journal
These slick innards, these fluid chambers. How long have we been here, making thralls? I don't want to any longer... Myrkul is drowned out in my head by my own spiral fears. The Bone Lord doesn't want a coward. None of this looks real. I am in a kraken belly. I am turned inside-upside. I am dead. Myrkul's Gray Waste always sounded peaceful. Not like this