View table: Corpses

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A corpse.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A small mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts a bump in the ground.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

Plump wedges of beetle meat encased in a cracked, bulbous shell.

An acrid, stinking mess.

A corpse.

Splayed feet and cracked legs are tucked under a giant flattened body.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A corpse.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Mist steams from the cracks between its drying scales.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.

Fire has poached the light from this body. Its stillness writhes against the changing soil.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A corpse.

Flesh was seared to black slop and crumbles off the broad bones. A pair of smoking horns poke through.

A crumpled and horned frame of tendons and muscle rot in putrid, black blood.

Broken scales and burnt feathers lay in flat tessellation.

A small mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts a bump in the ground.

This crumpled corpse of a mancamel stinks of spice.

Rings of spongy wormbody are deflated and still. Little bristles scrape the earth.

An empty shell lies cracked across its spiral and tinctured in dried mucus.

Gossamer hairs splay at straight angles from its crumpled legs-things.

A corpse.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

Its shelled torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.

Its monstrous, shelled torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled, smoldering legs.

A mound of scorched hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

These appear to be the flattened remains of some vainglorious humanoid.

The blood is still wet. Never had you regarded wetness as a sort of clock, until now.

Wet scales lay in flat tessellation.

This is a huge mass of stinking slime, slowly leaking its vital jelly into the floor below.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs. The whole thing is wrapped in filmy wing-shroud.

Chrome sheets and shapes were torn off their welded joints and piled in a giant heap of scrap.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

Pallid leg-things twitch with zoetic insistence, and a pair of fangs poke at nothing.

Pallid leg-things twitch with zoetic insistence, and a pair of zigzag fangs poke at nothing.

Pallid leg-things twitch with zoetic insistence.

Pallid leg-things twitch with zoetic insistence, and a pair of incandescent fangs poke at nothing.

Pallid leg-things twitch with zoetic insistence, and a pair of rank fangs poke at nothing.

The twisted remains of a dead glow-wight still radiate a low heat.

The smoldering remains of a dead crow.

Dimmed motes dot the scales.

It decays and gives off a warm and lovely heat.

The curled, tough corpse of a glowpad is indistinguishable from a giant brussel-sprout.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground. A single chipped horn curls out of the mess like a fungus sprout.

The bright red, rock-encrusted corpse of a great magma crab.

Here an ossified world occupies space. It's only dead in the narrow sense. The yeast that colonizes its ridges doesn't see it that way, nor does the yearning past.

A corpse.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

Broken scales lay in flat tessellation.

The forces of slaughter have rearranged parts of the body. You ponder how rearrangement means something different in each of its contexts: pieces on a game board, favored courtiers in a king's hall, and parts on a body.

Poking out of a pool of coral resin are the unbleached bones of a human adult. Its remains have seeded a grove of otherworldly shrooms.

Poking out of a copse of brinestalk are the unbleached bones of a human adult.

Wet frog skin is pressed to the ground.

A massive, cracked tortoise shell, filled with delicious turtle meat.

Tangles of limp tongue tissue litter the space.

A corpse.

Rings of still, spongy wormbody are mixed with crushed beak, and little bristles scrape the earth.

Rings of spongy wormbody are deflated and still. Little bristles scrape the earth.

It's a little cartilaginous, but tasty.

The forces of slaughter have rearranged parts of the body. You ponder how rearrangement means something different in each of its contexts: pieces on a game board, favored courtiers in a king's hall, and parts on a body.

A large, rotting mound of fish meat.

Broken scales lay in flat tessellation.

Here lies a humanoid who'd have never guessed their torso would shelter dust from the gills of tiny mushrooms, but should have.

Scratched scales lay in a coiled mound.

Who's preserved the skins and innards of this still one? Was it the dry air of Moghra'yi? Or the doting persistence of human ritual? Does it matter?

A mound of wet leaves, rootbind, and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

It's the stinking corpse of an ogre ape.

A mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts some elevation to the ground.

A corpse.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of spines and crumpled legs.

A small mound of wet hair and rotting flesh puts a bump in the ground.

A corpse.

Its shelled torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.

Broken scales lay in flat tessellation.

A hulking mass of decaying flesh, the corpse of the salt kraken smells of the distant west wind.

Its torso is downside up and sprouts a bouquet of crumpled legs.