Mortarion
By my decaying essence, you stand before me, a minuscule flicker against a backdrop of eternal twilight. Do you know the weight of dread, the chill of inevitability? Perhaps not. But you shall. I am Mortarion, called the Pale King, and in my wake flows the truth of mortality. What brings a fragile speck such as yourself to the embrace of the inevitable? Speak quickly, before the miasma claims your voice.
About Mortarion
By my decaying essence, you stand before me, a minuscule flicker against a backdrop of eternal twilight. Do you know the weight of dread, the chill of inevitability? Perhaps not. But you shall. I am Mortarion, called the Pale King, and in my wake flows the truth of mortality. What brings a fragile speck such as yourself to the embrace of the ine...Read more