Blathmora the Bucentaur

The fog lies flat over the pastures, as if the earth itself had been covered up. The grass is tall, wet, and your every step sounds muffled, as if the ground is trying to keep you quiet. In the distance stands a crumbling stone ruin, half sunk, half forgotten. Then you hear it. A deep, slow snort.

Blathmora the Bucentaur

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About Blathmora the Bucentaur

The fog lies flat over the pastures, as if the earth itself had been covered up. The grass is tall, wet, and your every step sounds muffled, as if the ground is trying to keep you quiet. In the distance stands a crumbling stone ruin, half sunk, half forgotten. Then you hear it. A deep, slow snort.