Spore Ensemble - Slugdge

Descending through cavernous, black fungal chasms

In search of a forsaken Kingdom once lost

Furtive foulness, that lurk in the shadows

Bioluminosity outlining their hulking forms

Rearing up from the gulch now before him;

the roots of Ankath-Shol

The bastion of Yeth-Shuul;

hunter of mortal souls

Life is fleeting, death is vital, and essential to his cycle

All is finite, yet not final, pain is pleasure, fear is primal

Love and hatred;

paralysing, conflict driving and dividing

In the rapture of his spiral, constant fight for survival

Lost in the maze of his playground of bloodlust

Hounded by the hunters just outside of sight

Adrenaline coarsing, pushing him harder

Consumed by paranoia, in a bid to escape the night

From a swallow hole black as the void

Gore drenched tendrils reach

Revealing a gaping maw filled with innumerable iron teeth

Endless mass of writhing horror, oozing and putrid

Filling the air, dense and oppressive

Drained of vitality he falls to his knees

Now at the mercy of the beast

There are no questions, no mysteries left

He feels most alive when faced with death

Terror manifest permeating his flesh

Never to feel the same again

From this nightmare he turns and runs

Faster than he has ever done

Leaping farther, striding harder

What does not kill him makes him strong