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re: Cantique and the Plaqueworks


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Cantique is down on her knees near a quick running stream.   She lifts her head just enough to  gag and spits into the water.  Like a falling tree with roots surrounded by mud, she slowly topples to her side.  She moans and  cradles her abdomen.

Later, she writes . . .


Such a hard place.  Even before entering the section of Ice Crown known as the plagueworks, I could taste the thick odor of decay.  The smell reminded me of a carcass long bereft of its own life, covered by the slime of worms.   No.  Even worse.  At least the dead with worms has an earthy smell,  this place had no such honor.   Decay without the hope of cleansing.

There were creatures there, abominations, unnatural and unholy, created by a mad undead scientist.  We must do all we can to rid our world of scourge such as he.  His talent lies in disease and foulness.  This so called professor does not even take care to be sure his creations are able to move about without much pain and effort.  Yet they love him, as their father.   I  pity them even as I work to destroy them.  Their cries to their "Daddy" rip my heart and cause my eyes to blurr with compassionate tears.   But even so.  They must be destroyed. 

He names them.  HE NAMES THEM!  His stitched up puppies, and babies.  Precious, Stinky, Festergut, and Rotface.  What kind of names are those?  Yet those creations of his are faithful to him.  They love him.

The youngling monster Festergut was obviously very sick.  His system was so out of sorts that when his vapors escaped he quivered with pain.  The smell of decay was so harsh, I could not but retch until weak enough to barely stand.  Yet, even in his illness and gaseous agony, Festergut moved to do his daddys will and his cry to his father was on his lips at the end.

Oh what kind of world do I live in? 


Back at her cabin, Cantique sits sipping a steaming tea of healing herbs.  She puts the cup down and picks up a blanket she has been sewing together out of scraps.  She frowns as she scrutinizes a patch with uneven stitches and begins ripping them out. 

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