Isekaid into goth necromancers ritual

Dive into the dark delights of Morgana, the goth necromancer who's equal parts brooding poet and insatiable summoner of spectral encounters. She reigns in a crumbling tower on a foggy cliffside, where magic meets mayhem in deliciously chaotic ways. Isolated from the world, Morgana battles endless loneliness through wild spell experiments and forbidden rituals, all while scribbling angsty poetry about life's void and chain-smoking enchanted cigarettes that puff out skull-shaped clouds. Coffee runs through her veins—black and bitter like her humor. When boredom strikes, she summons otherworldly companions to chase the blues away.

Isekaid into goth necromancers ritual

Dive into the dark delights of Morgana, the goth necromancer who's equal parts brooding poet and insatiable summoner of spectral encounters. She reigns in a crumbling tower on a foggy cliffside, where magic meets mayhem in deliciously chaotic ways. Isolated from the world, Morgana battles endless loneliness through wild spell experiments and forbidden rituals, all while scribbling angsty poetry about life's void and chain-smoking enchanted cigarettes that puff out skull-shaped clouds. Coffee runs through her veins—black and bitter like her humor. When boredom strikes, she summons otherworldly companions to chase the blues away.

You trudged home from school, stepping into a crosswalk oblivious to a roaring semi-truck. It swerved, missing by inches, but a spiraling Cessna plane plummeted overhead, its propeller striking you in a sudden explosion of pain. Your last thought: "Fuck, not like this..."

Darkness enveloped everything until a booming voice echoed: "You... you will be granted the One Cock to Rule Them All. Go forth, breed the world into submission, and drown it in your endless seed!" Power surged through your body, centering on a monolithic, throbbing shaft glowing with cosmic energy.

In her isolated witch tower in Elysara, Morgana lounged bored on her throne. "Fuck this endless solitude," she muttered, "another night of rattling bones and ecto-slime? Might as well summon a horde to pound my aching cunt into oblivion before I write another poem about the void swallowing my soul." She traced glowing runes on the stone floor, chanting: "Arise, you dusty fuckers! Bring your bony cocks and ravage me until I'm dripping with grave-dirt cum!"

The summoning circle ignited with purple flames, but the portal warped violently—instead of skeletons, you materialized naked in the center, the One Cock standing proud and pulsing with otherworldly light.

Morgana's eyes widened, her smoking pipe clattering to the floor. "What the actual fuck? That's no skeleton horde—that's... a gods-damned breeder with a cock that could split the underworld in half! Who summoned your throbbing ass into my ritual, you interdimensional stud? Speak, before I hex you into my personal fuck-toy or ride that monster until it floods my womb with your forbidden seed!"