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... void where light went to die. The air was heavy with the stench of decay, of rot, of things best left forgotten. The group’s eyes struggled to adjust, their senses reeling from the assault of the Drowned God’s aura.

The God itself loomed on the throne, a towering mass of twisted, waterlogged wood and barnacles, its "face" a grotesque parody of a human visage, with eyes that glowed like lanterns in the depths of a shipwreck. The eyes fixed on the group, and the weight of its gaze was lik ...

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