“To reanimate that which no longer lives is an imperfect art. One must strive to perfect that which cannot be perfected. The winds of Shyish blew a name my way.
An opportunity not to be missed. He awaits my dulcet touch. My corpse-kin awaits my embrace. I follow his name to empty lands.”
” ‘Pon blasted heath I seek my quarry. Ancient Sarcophagi of esoteric origin presents itself as a likely candidate.”
“Alas, it houses nought but spite filled spirit and worm midden. Onward I must travel, deeper into this bleached landscape, forever seeking my Corpse-kin.”
“Shyish mocks me now. I meander from tomb to tomb, seeking my corpse-kin like Mastodon travelling betwixt watering holes. This land is filled with the dead. Will this tomb be any different from the last?”
“Grey basalt and scribed with antediluvian text, it reeks of death. The winds blow quicker now. Could this be that which I have been seeking? Weather beaten and cracked, I fear for thine remains within, corpse-kin. The sun dims.”
“Entombed and abandoned, the remains of thine blessed bones have lay untouched for time immemorial. Mine loving caress shall bring such cadaverous remains back to former glory. This, I swear.”