Trudging within the castle pit, Tombeau paces through the filth, trapped by no jailor, but by location and curse. Swarming his body is a glowing aura comprised of flashing fragments he molds to the muck sticking to his sagging skin. Méphistophallique combines itself in a Tour de Garde with Tombeau’s flesh and begins ripping at his molecules. Bulging the veins in his neck is the last form of pain relief he can resort to as they pop from the rushing blood, while fusion between fragmented energy and human reaches its max. The pit is ablaze as he rises in a melt of glorious ember, dwarfed and crackling at the corners. Blackened in putrid sludge, dripping from crust-blasted skin, charred with thick ash now breaking from transformation, and then it’s darkness in a plume of dust. Everything slowly drips from the ceiling. “Rite de la chair” is complete. A glistening formation beams pins through the cloud of ash, and a pristine, diamond amalgamation/abomination emerges, shining crystal red and purple light.
• Tour de Garde: http://www.t-d-g.net
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