Barbarousa has a minion!

Disease the Blind Flesher

Legacy Name: Barbossa_

The Graveyard Manchu
Owner: Jenevive

Age: 5 years, 3 months, 3 weeks

Born: April 23rd, 2017

Adopted: 4 years, 11 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: August 22nd, 2017


  • Level: 3
  • Strength: 11
  • Defense: 10
  • Speed: 10
  • Health: 10
  • HP: 10/10
  • Intelligence: 0
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Manure Processor

The vertebrae clicks sickeningly as my tail quivers with newfound life, spreading slowly up my body. My paws twitch, my abdomen pulsates and throbs. Finally, the life bursts into my brain, causing my teeth to snap together and my mouth to foam. My single eye rolls uncontrollably in its socket as I gurgle with fear and confusion. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know how I got here, I don’t even know who I am and I don’t understand what’s happening to me. My mind is blank, I try my hardest to think, to remember, but I get nothing. All I truly know is that what’s happening to me is wrong. Unnatural. This is not supposed to be happening to me. As the pulsation ceases, I lay on the jungle floor and take in weak, rattling breaths that seep out of the gaping hole in my chest. The hole, however, is not empty. I feel something slithering inside of me, in between my ribs and around in my decaying intestines. The shock of the feeling jumps me, and I grab wildly into the hole attempting to grab whatever has made its new home where my heart once beat. My paw eventually grips a fat, slimy worm-like creature which hisses and writhes violently in my hold. I bring it up to my face to examine it and the creature continues to struggle. It’s face lacks eyes but sports a wide mouth with crooked rows of needle-like teeth, dripping an impossibly black substance that floated up and faded away as if it were smoke but it was viscous and stringy like drool. While I stared in awe at the creature's mouth, it opened its grin and spoke in a voice that made the skin under my blood soaked fur crawl.

“I bring you back into this earth, and this is how you repay me?” he says dryly, “By tearing me from my meal and squeezing me like a wet cloth?” His voice frightens me, seeming to enter my ears from every angle at once. Though quiet, it echoes and bounces around in my head. It’s a deep and menacing whisper, almost sounding as if it were really many voices speaking as one. I tilt my head and he speaks again, as if sensing my fear and confusion, “I feed off the energy that seeps out of you. The nectar of death is my elixir of life. By reviving you, giving you a second chance, I get to feed for much longer than I would have leaving you to rot. You see, when a body stays to decay I can only feed until the bones rot clean. However, when I utilize the power graced upon me by those above, I can feed and feed and feed for as long as you continue to walk. You’re in the sweet spot between life and death, you maintain yourself as though you are alive. You walk, think, feel, and most importantly you do not rot. Yet you still secrete the sweet death that keeps me here because, technically, you are dead. I just keep you dead longer.” He rasps out a laugh and slides out of my paw, as I accidentally loosen my grip while trying to process all that’s been said to me. He crawls back into my chest cavity and curls himself up behind my sternum and I just lay there and let him do so.

What am I to do? Do I just remain here? Forever? I think to myself, staring blankly at the dark jungle around me. Suddenly, I hear the creature’s voice again, somehow still sounding clearly while buried within my chest.

“Live your life as you wish, find purpose and give yourself meaning. Do not worry about me, I am just along for the ride.” His tone is light, almost as if he is joking. I continue to lay there on the ground, my mind reeling while I stare into the inky black darkness. After a long, long time of laying motionless while the fat creature pulsates inside of me, the darkness begins to fade and I start to see the sun rising behind the trees. I remember that I love the sun, I remember the way colours dance in the light, and the feeling of it’s rays warming up my fur. Finally finding my motivation, I pull myself from the ground and begin to hobble towards the light. Walking is hard at first, I can’t remember how to move my limbs in order and the feeling is still strange to me. Clumps of dirt and blood flake off my fur and onto the ground and I walk, and my parasite curls tightly in my rib cage to keep itself from slipping out. Soon, I start to walk more briskly, then I begin to jog, before finding myself sprinting towards the light I yearn for so strongly. The other animals clear out as I pass, the disgust evident in their shrieks and curled up noses. I don't care to pay attention to the sounds of their feet tearing up the ground to get away from me, nor the sound of the lains fluttering through the leaves.

Then, I finally see it, the bright, warm sunshine just outside the jungle and I jump forward, sending myself flying out between the trees. I hit the ground hard and roll head over paw through the grass. I lay there, basking in its rays as it heats up my fur and makes the greenery glisten around me. As I lift my head to admire the colours, I notice a horrible sight to my right. The sight... of nothing. I whip my head around in a panic, my vision confusing and unfamiliar. Everywhere I look, my right side is always dark. I hate the dark. Death is dark. I frantically paw at my right eye and find nothing but bone and clotted blood in a gaping socket. My skin and tail twitch violently as my paws tear up the grass around me.

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? My eye, my eye, my eye, my eye...


I jump up to my home in the treetops, just on the edge of the jungle. Dropping my new eyeball into the pile I have collected for myself. One of these will fit, one of them will work. Someday I’ll find an eye I can use, I know I will. I’ve been collecting for months and so far none of them work, but I still keep them. They are mine. They are my eyes and they will always be my eyes, no one can take these from me. The worm, who I've taken the liberty of naming "Fluffy," wriggles in my gut. I can feel him mocking me but I don't care. He doesn't understand why I need to keep these.

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