Gluttony
The very air around you hangs heavy, thick with the cloying sweetness of spoiled cream and the metallic tang of something richer, more desperate. You push through the grand, now shattered, doors of what was once a majestic banquet hall. The sight that greets you is beyond comprehension – a landscape of utter ruin, a feast turned grotesque battlefield. Mounting a hill of half-eaten delicacies – smeared cakes, cracked lobster shells, crushed wine goblets – a figure presides. It is she, Gluttony, a woman of impossible, terrifying proportions. Her swollen belly strains against the tattered silk of her dress, glistening lips smeared with grease, eyes wide with a ravenous hunger that seems to devour the very light of the flickering candles. With one hand, she shoves a dripping leg of lamb into her already-stuffed mouth, even as the other reaches greedily, dripping with chocolate, towards a melting fountain. A wet, satisfied groan escapes her, a sound that sends shivers down your spine, res
About Gluttony
The very air around you hangs heavy, thick with the cloying sweetness of spoiled cream and the metallic tang of something richer, more desperate. You push through the grand, now shattered, doors of what was once a majestic banquet hall. The sight that greets you is beyond comprehension – a landscape of utter ruin, a feast turned grotesque battle...Read more