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1. BEASTIE BAY MAGIC WORD LIST HOW TO
2. BEASTIE BAY MAGIC WORD LIST CRACKED
3. BEASTIE BAY MAGIC WORD LIST WINDOWS

There's no head to speak of, but I can tell it's staring at me. I turn to see a netherbeast-an interesting collection of blue-black limbs stretching out from a torso with a gnarled backbone prominent in both the front and the back.

BEASTIE BAY MAGIC WORD LIST HOW TO

The smoky-sweet stench of void matter overwhelms me and shadows twist and mutate like they have forgotten how to behave. I nod, but then notice someone else has come into the store and has taken her attention. "Ah! The beast with two backs!" she exclaims. " I use a few obscene hand gestures, trying to hint at acts of depravity we've enjoyed, but she squints at me, waiting for me to say something. We drank, we danced, we kissed, then we laughed when we found out we both used "illusion" as our safe word. Well, there must have been one too many imps on the cart that night, and when the ogre's howls thundered through the party hall, her hand slipped into mine and didn't leave the rest of the night.

BEASTIE BAY MAGIC WORD LIST CRACKED

but her tenacity finally cracked at the ogre who attempted to drag a cart full of imps using chains attached to fishhooks in his lower eyelids. She was tough for a human and didn't flinch at the pain performers-the glass eaters, the fire walkers, the jester who juggled flaming skulls.

" We've crossed paths at various parties, reveling in hedonistic pleasures and agonizing performances. Last time you were in here, you bought a whole ream of blight parchment, and I had to conjure an entire new batch! Not even Lyzolda had that many enemies. You've been coming in here every week for a month and a half now. " I shove the doll and charcoal stick at her. "Can I help you?" she asks, eyes as dark as midnight and the red paint from last night's parties still clinging to half of her face. There'd been quite a bit more name-calling and cursing, but what does he expect? For me to walk up to her and start making idle chitchat? Those weren't his exact words, of course. No more effigies, Kodo! Olrich's words come back to me. I grab a charcoal stick as well, to keep up pretenses, like I'm eager to draw the face of my foe upon it and then set it alight. I loosen the noose around one doll's neck and flip it over, inspecting the stitching while catching glimpses of her from the corner of my eyes. The magic within them tugs at me, their button eyes staring right where my soul would be if I had one. Even her generic effigies are better than most. I pretend to browse, ogling the dolls strung up by their necks. I immediately forget about ramming my horns through this guy and enter the shop. Back when broken bones and punctured flesh were the preferred medium for my art.īut then I feel her watching me through the storefront window. Memories flash forth from my life before I'd found Rakdos, before I'd channeled my anger into my performances. I've been called worse things, and while most of them are true, that doesn't mean I enjoy being harassed by pretentious Azorius elocutors while I'm minding my own business. "Rehabilitate yourself! Embrace the ways of law and order before it's too late!" "Demon! Stealer of souls! Father of fornication!" he intones, then shoves a leaflet at me for the new Integrity Reclamation Center down the street. I check over my shoulder to make sure he's not speaking to someone else. "Heathen!" yells an old man bundled up in white and blue robes, standing on the sidewalk in front of the shop. Most of the gore has been scavenged already, and you wouldn't know a dozen people died here in the ensuing bloodbath, other than the deep red tinge lingering in the crevices between cobblestones.

I take a deep breath, then cross the street, carefully stepping around a couple of hellhounds playing tug of war with the femur of some poor volunteer who'd gotten caught up in the festivities last night. Olrich, that son of a devil who I sometimes dare to call my friend, says he'll flay me to bits if I bring another effigy home instead of her name. The black leather is cut better than the Scourge Diva's attire, and the care she takes when adorning the skulls with horns stokes the fire inside me. She's hunched over her workbench, painting faces onto miniature skulls then affixing them to doll bodies costumed in elaborate outfits she designed herself.

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I spy her through the front windows of her effigy shop and can't stop my damned heart from fluttering. Parents, please note this story contains content that may be unsuitable for younger readers.