The humans aren't the only ones who hear the call. The monsters do as well, though they are far less interested in what it is, than what it will bring. They wait until they are just far enough away that their cries of help will be useless, before attacking.
AsPeter makes his way with Amalia's lovely (and useless) shield, they attack. With teeth that bite and gnaw at him, nipping at his heels and against the back of his neck, they seem to spur him onwards, laughing all the while.
And then there'sAmun. Always so ready to show himself off; perhaps that is why he is swarmed. Though he'll not feel the pain, teeth claw at his arms and legs, ascended fluid leaking freely as bones are revealed from the torn muscle. They burrow into his hair, grating their teeth against his skull in an unrelenting maelstrom of cackling mouths.
Next comes the wingedJiao, and immediately the monsters go for her wings. Claws tear at the thin membrane of them, seemingly furious at their beautiful delicacy.
Amalia and Ronin move unimpeded, their pair of dreamfish swimming merrily behind casting a warm starlit glow.
Finally, there'sWessex. They slink in her wake, wary because of what she is and what she can do, but virile and furious nonetheless. Not all are as inquisitive as those she has met before. Some merely want blood, or in this case, fluid. For the Queen, they burrow into her ears, flailing and scratching at what they can, pulling hair and eyelashes.
When finally the pull subsides, you find yourselves in an area that seems impervious to your light. It is intentionally dark here, but the darkness isn't static. It moves like water; thick and oppressive around you, your meager tools of light casting hardly more than a weak sphere. The ascended can see, yes, but there is nothing to see here save for the falling snow.
Until of course, there is.
From the bowels of the pitch comes a creature that can't be real. It is comprised entirely of bones, and yet even without muscles or organs, something about it is uncannily expressive. Back eye-sockets regard each of you as it halts, darkness emanating from its antlers.
"Death or life. Which is more important." It asks in a hollow voice.
No posting order. You have 24 hours. If you decide to run away from the drop you may be additionally injured, but you won't die. I'll let you make it back safe :)
Peter: 55
Amun: 7
Amalia: 270
Jiao: 12
Ronin: 88
Wessex: 84
As
And then there's
Next comes the winged
Finally, there's
When finally the pull subsides, you find yourselves in an area that seems impervious to your light. It is intentionally dark here, but the darkness isn't static. It moves like water; thick and oppressive around you, your meager tools of light casting hardly more than a weak sphere. The ascended can see, yes, but there is nothing to see here save for the falling snow.
Until of course, there is.
From the bowels of the pitch comes a creature that can't be real. It is comprised entirely of bones, and yet even without muscles or organs, something about it is uncannily expressive. Back eye-sockets regard each of you as it halts, darkness emanating from its antlers.
"Death or life. Which is more important." It asks in a hollow voice.
No posting order. You have 24 hours. If you decide to run away from the drop you may be additionally injured, but you won't die. I'll let you make it back safe :)
Peter: 55
Amun: 7
Amalia: 270
Jiao: 12
Ronin: 88
Wessex: 84
LONGNiGht
