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A rotting strand of twisted thoughts ran through his<br />
mind as he was crossing the bridge.<br />
The pungent stench of sulfur, decrement and rotting<br />
fish permeated the air – but Vylhaelm did not even<br />
notice the odor. For all his being was focused on these<br />
giant cocoons illuminated by a graceful golden light on<br />
which he now laid his eyes.<br />
Completely captivated Vylhaelms fingers ghostet over<br />
their infectious surface smeared with greyish-yellow<br />
slime before . . .
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