Runt - Chapter 3 (final)
Not as clumsily as the corpse-rot uprights, but clumsily enough that i grew impatient and doubled back for it several times. by the time i'd reached the cave, the upright was panting heavily.
WoW: Owl Odyssey - The Acorn Contest
Her first challenge came from the crowd, the down-on-his-luck undead gasping through rotting jaw to say, "there'sssss no way you made it through ashenvale without being ssssspotted."
Worlds: B1, C1, Forgotten
I caught the scent of troll-a mixture of mud and rotting flesh-and have been chasing it for an hour now. everyone i pass screams and runs, but i don't care.
THE PLAN
Er hatte rot gefärbte haare, einen irokesenschnitt, trug springerstiefel und hatte eine mit nieten verzierte lederjacke an. wütend währte er sich hoffnungslos gegen seine fesseln.
Ander - Part 1: Subchapter 23
23 - sprawling, the scent of wet, half rotted leaves ripe in her nostrils. she twisted around just in time to see them collide with each other, two hulking shapes in the dark, biting and clawing and tearing, snarling like beasts.
3 - Experiments in the Old Times [Incomplete]
"let them rot." the reflection sneered. "as their seats clearly rot their brains, they certainly are not worthy your worry or respect. they envy your power over mortals and your knowledge of mortals. they crave it, they seek it.
Poem #33: The Senses
I feel so plugged the flowers are dull the stench rots my core my nose a sore burning my face. i feel so tasteless ash filling my mouth i look down i see charcoal glowing with fiery malice.
One Cold December Moon
This message we bear, burdened by thought, but not until death shall our minds ever rot! forever shall we listen to that magical loon, all this thought, one cold december moon.
Eulogy to the Great King
Daggered words exchanged, tempered and rude retaliatory fees dropped upon the king's grown food the nations crops, left to rot it was this action that began the plot the prosperous kingdom's bounty of rations now cost too much for the far off nations
Nightworld 07: Lady of the House
Jaro heard scratching and biting, and his stomach turned as the rotting fish smell met his nose. "flares, frankie-fuck, flares!" he said, backing up as the dingo cracked one.
Dead Shamrocks
Coffeehouse soundtracks muse then pause while live performances tumble through the door uproar and brouhaha fight in brawl yet none of this is recognized like a worthless fighter with fists still raised though red mash covers the floor and flesh rots
Crimson Sands
As my corpse lay rotting time still frozen, "i told you poor mortal, that you are chosen." - d.ashford