The lifeless carcasses arranged its dissembled parts, naked and forlorn on bloodied tables, in the oppressive whiteness of the mangled eyes of their understudies, the cruel sobriety of the operating theater, where the applause of endless torments still seemed to tremble. The midday sun covered them, and awakened the death-spots on foreheads, a bright bile would spurt out occasionally from a desecrated belly reminding all of the tremulous gallbladder within the crevices of a savaged liver. The man alongside Orchid stenciled flesh like a giant shimmering calyx, arms likes scarlet petals strewn over their altars of death.

Splendid red and blue colors grew along the butcher’s loins, and in the heat the pirate stomached the wound against nature, furnished for man’s convenience and style. The lesion under his brows spiraled and slowly split into a furrow against the terrible odors of makeshift pathologists.

Ovaries. Spleen. Pancreas. Intestines. Ligaments fruitlessly tethering all internal anatomies.

These were all carved with delicacy, dissecting with dueling forceps and butterfly blades. The half-orc and his new found companion squatted over the limp game, their sclera beady with noses like crooked vultures’ beaks forever screaming for flesh. As they continued their ghastly handiwork, looking like fearsome torturers, with coagulated blood streaming over their tainted hands, the sailor adorned with his own minotaur hide remained careful with the discarded organs. 

He scurried back and forth, ever deeper into the fray of the burning Gehenna conjured outside the tent. Each skinned corpse plopped upon burning coal only for his dragon fang to return him to the duo, like cooks disemboweling the next proverbial goose. The entrails wound around their arms, greenish-yellow snakes, with the rare excrement dripped onto their protective coats. The veteran tanner would occasionally puncture the bladder away from the potential leather; the cold urine spouting from the vesicular insides like buttery wine, bearing the sharp, biting stench of sworn ammonia.

But the dead animals slept, patiently allowing themselves to be rent, torn from hair and fascia, as busy flies likes carrion swallows circled amidst and high above the allegorical giants destroying the massacred monsters.

This way and that.

They slumbered, all the while, the druid’s mind evolved into a numb drum, beating with the tedium of the labor. 

[@Hekazu][@The Harbinger of Ferocity][@Irredeemable][@Lucius Cypher][@Ryonara]