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Chapter 108: The Drowned
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Chapter 110: Drip. Drip. Death.
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... ter around us made it hard to breathe, as the filth flowed into our lungs, it was laced with filth and decay. The air was damp and choked with rot, a mixture of stagnant waste and something far worse—the scent of long-dead things that had never been given peace.
The blasted dead things were rising from the grave to attack us.
The creatures didn’t lurch forward with the awkward, mindless movements of typical undead. They moved deliberately, with an unnatural fluidity, their waterl ...
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