The deluge of gray highlighted the sky above, the floor below shit brown and trampled. Mud and twigs intertwined in a dance above the dirt; the gentle breeze caressing the rotting waltz, flavoring the wind as it crosses the dead plains. There is the metallic twang of blood in the air, the ghost of a million deaths.
In the distance mad fires and funeral pyres rage out of control. Stacks of dead body kindle the inferno, monoliths of black plume. A city of a million graves stretches its carcass across the bitter landscape. Gravestones jut from the ground like broken teeth. White washed stone above, white bones picked clean by vermin below.