LadyTwinkle

      The salty air was dank with the acrid scent of rotting fish and decaying driftwood. The humid wet vapors clung to skin and hung in the air like overwhelming steamy droplets of salted swamp water. Yet this musty, murky, dismal place was home sweet home to Morgrimm Le’Craft. He’d been happy here in life, and even more delighted here in death. People didn’t often travel here, people avoided the swamplands like snow avoided the dessert. They just didn’t come here. Morgrimm liked that. He loved his sanctuary; he cherished his hermitous life and after-life. As on the last day of every month for the last several hundred