Dropping Undead Beats

My recent performance dedicated to Ivoln. It was kind of fun to do, maybe I'll keep going with this one Imp-Chiav-Earthen-Azudim band!

Without much formality, Malcanthet murmurs, "Hollow bones".

A daemonic golem opens its maw, spreads all five arms wide and releases a low, guttural drone that sets the earth beneath your feet rumbling.

Taking a breath, Malcanthet slants a glance at her comrade, who wordlessly begins slapping her floppy palms against the drum skin. An unsteady beat takes life, stuttering in and out like a failing heart, and with that, a sound issues from Malcanthet's lips that one can only assume is meant to be song.

Voice measured, though painfully high, you sing, "From the graveyard, we come, where it's cold, so cold. Scions of Earth leaving empty tombs."

The reanimated body of Malcanthet continues rapping away, the steady drizzle of spittle falling from her slack lips mingling on the drum skin with her dirty fingers to create a muddy mixture that vibrates back and forth.

Voice measured, though painfully high, you sing, "With the worms and the maggots, we churn and churn."

The reanimated body of Malcanthet gazes deadly at the audience, an occasional accompanying groan rising from her ruined throat as she raps out an uneven tattoo upon her drum.

Malcanthet clasps her taloned hands to her breast, caught in the twisted sentiment welling from her spidery being.

The reanimated body of Malcanthet picks up rhythm, now striking the drum with fists in an abusive beat that rattles the bones adorning the circumference of the instrument.

Air quivering around her under the assault of her now eardrum-piercing wail, you sing, "Let your blood chill and freeze in your veins. Wick all the fluids, make dry again."

The reanimated body of Malcanthet picks up momentum, though the moment she gets a good tempo going her left arm pops from its socket, clattering against the drum to the ground. An awkward pause as some sentience flashes behind her murky eyes and she glances up in semi-panic at her mistress, who glares daggers at her in return and sharply jerks her head downward in a silent command.

Voice ringing painfully in the silence, you sing, "Make music with your rotten fists, beat the skull and break the stone."

The reanimated body of Malcanthet stares at her misplaced limb dumbly, then slowly picks it up and begins using it like a drumstick, banging it gracelessly atop the drum. A loud, drawn out moan escapes her gaping maw as she attempts to harmonize with Malcanthet, the empty tone a massive upgrade to the cacophony given thus far.

Banshee wail wheedling down to a tolerable yowl, you sing, "Everything that we are, is hewn in hollow bones. Raze the sky and watch them die. Life here has no hold."

The reanimated body of Malcanthet drops her arm and works her grisly maw back and forth, ichor and crumbling dirt falling from her blackened lips, and finishes with an unlively "Ghnraaaahrnnn!"

A daemonic golem falls silent, the small rocks dancing around its feet toppling into stillness.

Taking the reanimated body of Malcanthet 's remaining hand in hers, Malcanthet draws the ghoul into a half bow.
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