> Morgrabal touched his face. The intricate tattoos marking a Daemonsmith of the Forge Anathema had not been disturbed. Ritual power lay in them; they were blueprints to divinity, revealed by Hashut and bartered with souls. He had earned them. He had chosen to bear them. They were no mark of submission, no chain. Not like those the manling barbarians bore. Nothing like them.
I love chaos so much
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