These familiar Ancients have been warped and twisted by Xavius, seeing those that were once allies as the source of the agonising corruption that mutated them. Their gnarled limbs had elongated, wooden fingers long and sharp as stakes and a putrid odor emanated from their towering, lumbering forms. Fungal pustules that oozed the dark, red ichor had feasted upon the healthy green leaves and moss that once decorated the Ancient's form. It smelled of decay, of rotting wood, and from its mouth a similar ichor dripped.
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