Soup's On

The SCVM's journey results in smoke and ruin. A chapel of entropy perverted. Bone thickets ripe with twisted fruits. Ahead waits the Butcher’s wagon, wheels deep in the blackened ruts of the road. He says only, ‘Sous is waiting.’ Will Sous smile upon the SCVM? What banquet awaits the wretched king of Schleswig? What began as pilgrimage ends as feast, and the taste of it will never fade. This is the end of the road.