Bog's Displeasure

All creatures have deathtouch.
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A disgusting plague has filled the air. So putrid I
could taste it in my mouth. It seemed to not mess with our bodies, as much as it with our minds.
Wretched were the infected few, reverting them
back to that of animals. Ripping apart the weak
by the seams with their bare hands, an awful
sight. I just hope us that remain can make do.