The Bulldust of Grithmone.

(@GRITHMONE. ↑ SPINE-TINGLING.) Murk cloaks the truth and prescripts flew like an ickle gust-of-wind, not a typhoon that blighted the entire hacienda. In the midst of this outwardly middle-of-nowhere terrain, a ménage with highbred blood hides its persona here, aided by a thick and dark fog: when the black lurch bird chirps, toss a letter, and sit tight for the reply to come. 📿 ㅤ [SFS IS RESTRICTED TO FAMGUY ONLY] ㅤ