Repare your feeble mortal mind… For the stench of death is creeping through the cracks of reality. The scent of rot and decay permeates the air — thick, putrid, and inescapable.

It's stench cannot be denied, its image cannot be forgotten, its touch goes unfettered... A corpse to living is a testimony to foreshadow and transcendence. To the necromancer, rot is an evocation. A shrine of bones is the temple, and the morgue is a sanctuary for it all…

To the necrophile, the morgue the merrier. Behold the sights of…
CORPSE EROTIKA