“Mortal, the bandages are loosening.”

The deep gruff of the God of the Dead and Embalming rings out as you approach his throne. His form was that of a jackal with fur darker than night, eyes more purple than the wild violets and any dye. His hand was gesturing to the loosening bandages around his form, which was muscular, with a set of finely toned thighs.

“Don’t keep me waiting.~”