<I am in need of a new vessel. I will not last for long in this current state.> Boron said. <As it stands, I might be forced to return below to be sustained by my body. I do not wish to leave the plans I have to you all alone. That will not do. One of you must carry my soul.>
A stretch of silence followed.
The giant, statue-like marble existence within which Boron inhabited was seated atop a great, magnificently carved boulder. Fifteen much smaller, dark, stone-like Cavern were on Boron's figure, tended to him. They held what looked like bright cloths, washing the great lateral wound on his chest from which a stream of energy textured like soapsuds attempted to leak out of him in copious volumes.
Before and around the great Deity, a host of Carven could be seen, gazing at him reverently. Their numbers were enormous, and they sat in segregated groups according to their ranks. The nearer they were to Boron, the stronger they were.
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