Outside 47: [Insert seasonal phrase that will be outdated when this thread ends]

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Campsite

"I can sleep. My body was based off of a human's, though it is tempting to just turn off the chemicals that would make me tired. I suspect it would eventually drive me mad, though." She leans into his embrace, unsure of what to do with herself before tentatively putting an arm around him. "We can sometimes enter a restive state while we're waiting for the results of our actions for hundreds of years at a time. From what I understand, this will be similar, but much shorter." When she pulls back, her eyes are surrounded by a dusky, smokey shadow that looks like badly-applied makeup, but even that is fading away as she regains her control.

"I suspect if I took even one more bite I would start to lose cohesion. I will have to train myself about taste on blander foods before I work up to something so delicious again. You should finish your portion though. I would hate for it to go to waste." And she looks far too tempted to take another bite.

Spongy Campsite

"How bad is it to lose cohesion?" Dustin asks, curious as he takes the last of the food and begins to eat it. If she couldn't handle this sort of simple affair, then she was going to be in a lot of trouble back in the towns and cities if she gets introduced to something along the lines of bacon. He'll have to start her off on something like oatmeal with a bit of brown sugar or fruit if it was truly a worry. As it was, once the food is gone and he sets his pan aside to cool, he'll get up to head to the tent. When he opens the flap, he stares inside at three feminine grins attached to veritable balls of wool. Before any of the three can speak, he shuts the flap.

"No."

"Bu-"

"No."

"But our envy senses were tingling, among other things, a-"

"I said no." He says, sounding more tired and resigned to his fate than annoyed or angered. "I don't know how you three got here or how you found me, but you better not have brought that damned box with you." He complains as the three short women crawl over one another to get out of the tent. How the three fit in there will always be a mystery. They appear to be triplets, standing a scant five feet tall wearing jean shorts and plaid button-up shirts. Each of the three sports a collar of brilliant white wool and shorter patches elsewhere. "Well, yeah, we brought it, but that's just our job. We promise we're not shoving you into it. Just had the inkling that we had to come out this way and it seems it was right." The one in the lead says as she offers a hand at Rea. "We're all named Ann, but Anne or Annie will do. Nice to meet ya. I do hope that Dustin hasn't been...untoward to you." She says, mischief keen in her eye.

[Earl of Purple]

Forlorn Cave

Silver-eyes falls quickly, the gun shooting a hole in his chest, and he's quickly followed by three-arms and red-head, though all three are grunting in pain, suggesting they aren't dead yet. Silver-eyes fires his musket, but it's not aimed properly and the smoothbore barrel is pretty inaccurate.

The last one standing is the guy talking to the lizard-monkey, which screeches and jumps, opening a flap of skin to glide behind one of the beds as his owner reaches into his robes and pulls free a hatchet, rushing Metalhead and stomping carelessly on the bodies of his mates.

Speaking of, I didn't describe the room! It's got four beds in it, but three hammocks have also been put up in here. There's also two large wardrobes and a wooden chest.

[Leostales]

Forlorn Cave

The axe catches Metalhead in the arm. It hasn't damaged any circuits, but its caught in the metal plating. He tries to punch the man unconscious, after which he will draw his gun and point it at the others shouting "Raise your hands and surrender, or I'll kill you all!"

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Campsite

"How bad is it to lose cohesion?" Dustin asks, curious as he takes the last of the food and begins to eat it. If she couldn't handle this sort of simple affair, then she was going to be in a lot of trouble back in the towns and cities if she gets introduced to something along the lines of bacon. He'll have to start her off on something like oatmeal with a bit of brown sugar or fruit if it was truly a worry. As it was, once the food is gone and he sets his pan aside to cool, he'll get up to head to the tent. When he opens the flap, he stares inside at three feminine grins attached to veritable balls of wool. Before any of the three can speak, he shuts the flap.

"No."

"Bu-"

"No."

"But our envy senses were tingling, among other things, a-"

"I said no." He says, sounding more tired and resigned to his fate than annoyed or angered. "I don't know how you three got here or how you found me, but you better not have brought that damned box with you." He complains as the three short women crawl over one another to get out of the tent. How the three fit in there will always be a mystery. They appear to be triplets, standing a scant five feet tall wearing jean shorts and plaid button-up shirts. Each of the three sports a collar of brilliant white wool and shorter patches elsewhere. "Well, yeah, we brought it, but that's just our job. We promise we're not shoving you into it. Just had the inkling that we had to come out this way and it seems it was right." The one in the lead says as she offers a hand at Rea. "We're all named Ann, but Anne or Annie will do. Nice to meet ya. I do hope that Dustin hasn't been...untoward to you." She says, mischief keen in her eye.

A Woolly Campsite

"A bit like waking up from a dream. But really just a nuisance. If it happens at night, I can pull back together, but in sunlight I would have to get underground or wait until night." And then fluff happens, and Rea Adjusts to this new situation. Looking at her face, it flickers from one expression to another without using any muscles or taking any time to transition, and the new expression is not a happy one at all. But then it too is gone, covered by a mask of politeness that is just staged enough to be clearly a mask.

"Good skies no, he has not. But I feel that you three have been rather unkind to him." She looks at each in turn, "Anne, Annie, Annette, you have invaded his tent and spied on his conversation with a stranger without announcing your presence, stalking him here by means I do not know. I won't demand an apology as we have just met, but He certainly deserves one." With each naming, there's a finality that says that she would no sooner mix up the perfectly identical triplets than she would mistake one constellation for another.

"And then you should join us for dinner. There's still a bit left, and it's all quite good. I can try to scrounge some more for him to cook if it's not enough." Once more she is the picture of a polite hostess, in her incongruous gown in this damp, dusklit forest glen.

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Campsite

Dustin turns to stare at Rea for a moment and seems like he's about to say something but he's simply too late. The three "Lambs" all squeal happily at the same time and attempt to literally tackle their new friend to the ground in a giant pile of hugs. "You got our names right!""On the first try even!""That makes you our new favorite after Dustin!" Of course, that just gave them a favorite regardless. Hanging around the handyman/farmboy tended to make it so the three harbingers didn't have much contact outside of him. The three are relentless in being clingy and giving her physical affection, leaving Dustin behind and seemingly forgotten.

He gives a sigh and a shake of his head as he retrieves the pan and just gets back to cooking. The three would eat their bodyweight if they could and Rea had just invited them to dinner. Even so, he casts a glance at the tent every so often, wondering if It was actually in there. The air around the trio feels heavy with Fate, and an even darker and more ominous sense of it comes from the tent provided Rea gives it a thorough glance. Of course, she'd have to break free of the three huggy women first.

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Campsite

Dustin turns to stare at Rea for a moment and seems like he's about to say something but he's simply too late. The three "Lambs" all squeal happily at the same time and attempt to literally tackle their new friend to the ground in a giant pile of hugs. "You got our names right!""On the first try even!""That makes you our new favorite after Dustin!" Of course, that just gave them a favorite regardless. Hanging around the handyman/farmboy tended to make it so the three harbingers didn't have much contact outside of him. The three are relentless in being clingy and giving her physical affection, leaving Dustin behind and seemingly forgotten.

He gives a sigh and a shake of his head as he retrieves the pan and just gets back to cooking. The three would eat their bodyweight if they could and Rea had just invited them to dinner. Even so, he casts a glance at the tent every so often, wondering if It was actually in there. The air around the trio feels heavy with Fate, and an even darker and more ominous sense of it comes from the tent provided Rea gives it a thorough glance. Of course, she'd have to break free of the three huggy women first.

Spongy Campsite

For a moment as she's bowled over, Rea feels as light as air, and it almost seems as though her body will break under the weight of the three. But she remains as solid as they are, if a bit less fluffy.

Recovering herself and sitting up with surprising ease, ignoring the weight of the hugpile that had born her to the ground, Rea studies them all carefully, casting a long glance towards the tent. For a moment there's the smell of a skyless night, and the heavy pall of portent coming from the Annes and the tent might be pushed back just a hair, enough to lift it off of Rea's skin and flow around her. There's a sucking silence, a noise so loud it eats sound from around it as the two forces clash, fate and fateless formlessness.

And then it passes and she smiles back, wrapping her long, slender arms around all three in a tight hug right around their waists. And Dustin might be forgiven for thinking that however swanlike and graceful she had been built, there's no way her arms could fit so her hands are touching each other around those three like they are now.

He'd be wrong, clearly, if such a thought occurred to him. Because despite not looking any longer than a normal person's, they do fit nicely around the whole group cuddle.

"Not quite wolves in sheeps' clothing, but you are hiding teeth under those grins now aren't you? My kind have met nastier things than destiny in the void between stars, but we've met nicer things too."

[UncleWolf]

Spongy Glen

The three darlings of fate let out their giggles before Anne puts a finger to Rea's lips with a smile. "Shh. First rule of being with him is not to bring up matters of fate or destiny unless he's the first to broach it. It's a very important rule he made you see." "Yeah, and if we break it bad things will happen." "Yeah! He'll refuse to shear us as we like!" All three of them groan at the thought before relaxing and practically flopping against Rea like three bags of wet noodles, falling limp in her embrace.

After a moment though, Annette sits up just enough to look over at Dustin and then decides to slip from Rea's arms to go sidle up with him instead. A moment after that and she twists in her seat to just lay with her head on his lap. "It might be breaking the rule, Dusty, but I will warn that it is quite comforting to be around someone as fateless as she is. Nice and cool and a weight from our shoulders." "But your weight is nice and warm and secure so you won't be rid of us so easily." Her sister chips in. "Besides, we all know that there are times when you can...appreciate our company." The last titters.

The last one looks up at Rea after her giggle, turning serious. "But don't worry. You couldn't have fallen into the company of someone more chivalrous and hard-headed when it comes to affection." "Oh, yes. It can certainly be grating sometimes but endearing the rest." "Totally worth it though. Definitely."

[Slii Arhem]

Spongy Glen

"I see you three speak for him rather freely." Rea smiles warmly, with a hint of something else beneath...

"Well, Dustin? It's been a long day, shall you and I retire to the tent as you promised? I'm sure these three can keep each other warm." She gives the remaining two a quick, teasing squeeze around the middle before standing, as unstoppable as the rising tide, and striding towards her new companion. After all, if these three stalked him all the way here with no thought to their own sleeping arrangements, that was no business of hers.

Her gown trails after her, fraying and dispersing into gaseous vapors, a nebula of shimmering, luminous color. But as it thins at the edges, it spins into a floating, rippling sheet that curls according to pressures and currents beyond the physical. As the sun's last rays are disappearing, Rea is coming into her powers more fully.

And despite her teasing she's at least offering something. A tent made of starstuff, slowly becoming more solid as atoms are herded and bonded to one another from across galaxies into something thin, strong, and insulating. They'll have to find or cut poles for it, but the cloth is there, sturdy and ready for use.

[bc56]

Yellow Sands Waste

Kothar is not yet finished. He draws a pouch from his belt, taking a pinch of powdered silver from within, and tosses it over the corpse as a funeral rite. "May her days in Heaven be long and peaceful, and may..." A tear falls down his cheek. He's practically reliving events from his past, although now he's standing in the shoes of the shaman, whereas last time he was the mourner. "May... May nothing unholy... disturb her rest." The divine rite completed, Kothar falls to one knee and weeps as well. In his mind, he revisits events that occurred almost five years ago.

Flashback time!

Kothar, much younger and lacking many of his scars, stands in ceremonial garb made from raven feathers and the fur from black panthers, on a small, dry hillock in the middle of a dark, overgrown swamp. A short distance away, the wooden huts which make up his home village are visible, still burnt and damaged from the attack, only yesterday. Lying on the stone altar before him is a corpse, the mangled body of a black-scaled female lizardfolk. The shaman finishes the words. "May nothing unholy disturb her rest." and the entire funeral gathering recites afterwards, "Mother Tlacua, we thank you for providing Vutha to us, as a daughter, a wife, and a mother. We ask you would allow her spirit to bless her loved ones one last time." With that's the body is taken away, for the next set of rites. Someone tugs at Kothar's garment, and he looks down, seeing a lizardfolk toddler there, his scales halfway between Kothar's own green and the dark shade of the dead woman's. "Daddy? What's going to happen to Mommy? Will she be better soon?" Kothar breaks down into tears and is left speechless. What can he say?

End flashback

[Shadowcaller]

[Tauron's Workshop]


Specimen? Wonder what that is a specimen of. Apparently not relevant, though.
Fay nods and gets up onto the slab. Tentacles grab the end, then feet hop onto the edge, and then they roll into a 'being operated on' position.


The scout which was brought along to observe paces around the room.

[Tauron's Workshop]

Tauron seem to consider for a moment. "How to explain... call it your 'theme'. Your favorite colors, how you like to serve your community, what you like to be like, what you want to look like. Answer as many of these queries as you like and any others you might be able to think of. All answers will make my job easier and any unanswered question will let me fill in the void." He pauses again. "Would you like to have a voice? And if so, what would you like to sound like?"

[Rebonack]

[Yellow Sands Waste]

Sometimes there is nothing to say.

The flames consume the coffin completely, leaving nothing but fine ash behind.

Fine ash, and a set of stone stares leading down into the earth.

Meepa blinks, shocked by this revelation.

"That... that's the entrance to our warren. But it shouldn't be here, should it?"

She's getting pretty fed up with this vile fae trickery.

Nasty things, them.

[Earl of Purple]

Forlorn Cave

The cultist goes down, a nasty crunch coming from his head as a result of the blow. Probably just teeth breaking, rather than his jaw, but he is unconscious and can't answer questions. On the subject of teeth, none have very good teeth- they're all pretty bad, a result of bad diet and, if Metalhead's good enough at biology and nutrition, scurvy.

Since he'd shot them a few posts ago, I think his gun's still out. They raise their hands, though silver-eyes does his quite weakly; his breathing is starting to gurgle from the gunshot bleeding into his lung. Red-head has a shoulder-wound, and he should survive given medical attention to bandage the wound. Three-arms has a gutshot, which will probably kill him, though slower.

[Leostales]

Forlorn cave

Metalhead pulls some bandages and ointment out of a belt pouch and says, "use this and allow me to bind you, or die from your wounds."

[Earl of Purple]

Forlorn Cave

The red-head takes the bandages and starts to wrap his wound, ignoring the other two cultists. Bandages and ointment aren't likely to help either of those wounds, as far as red-head knows. His lower technological base would require a surgeon or something to save their lives. As he works, he looks up at Metalhead. "Angrizz will eat your soul for the blasphemy of killing His priests, Petey. Except you're not Petey, you just wear that no-good scum's face. I hope you made him scream. He was going to be next on the altar." He winces in pain a little, but he's not scared, and he sounds like he believes every word.

[Leostales]

Forlorn Cave

The red-head takes the bandages and starts to wrap his wound, ignoring the other two cultists. Bandages and ointment aren't likely to help either of those wounds, as far as red-head knows. His lower technological base would require a surgeon or something to save their lives. As he works, he looks up at Metalhead. "Angrizz will eat your soul for the blasphemy of killing His priests, Petey. Except you're not Petey, you just wear that no-good scum's face. I hope you made him scream. He was going to be next on the altar." He winces in pain a little, but he's not scared, and he sounds like he believes every word.

After he says this, Metalhead shoots the man, aiming for the heart. After this, he removes the man's eye patch and copies his face. Switching masks so he won't have to copy the leg any more. He then ties up the others and does a quick search of the room.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Wizards' Tower]

Sylvess very hesitantly follows her in, looking very twitchy. Doesn't really seem appropriate for a pure copper dragon of sort-of-royal blood, but Sylvess has never been particularly good at that whole "being a fierce dragon" thing. Cleo's hand is awkwardly accepted, which mostly just leads to Sylvess hopping along like a slightly drunk dragon. "I didn't- I'm sorry. I hope I d-didn't, um, disturb...everyone."

[Earl of Purple]

Forlorn Cave

The cultist is shot, and collapses, dead. Underneath the eyepatch, he was growing a smaller mouth in his eye socket. The others are tied up! Though it likely won't matter much, since two are dying and the third's unconscious. Metalhead's new face was attached to a body that had seven fingers on each hand, plus thumbs, because that's kinda the problem with the cultists- their patron is gifting them power which is altering their bodies.

All four cultists, if searched, reveal bronze ceremonial daggers, as well as two gold earrings between them and a silver ring on redhead's third finger from the left. There's also a pouch of coins in one cultist's robes, mostly antique shillings and similar old coins, worth more as antiques than as coins. Or, well, they would be if this weren't the Nexus, where coins from all over the place turn up. The wardrobes have robes inside, as well as some greatcoats, breeches, and other old-fashioned clothing. There's a red silk jacket with gold buttons; that's quite valuable, probably. In the chest there's another four muskets as well as the paraphernalia to use them- powder horns, musketballs, ramrods, and so on. There's also a bullet-making kit, designed for a pistol but the rounds would probably fit in a musket if you were desperate.

[bc56]

Yellow Sands Waste

"There is foul magic afoot here. Stay close." Kothar descends the staircase carefully.

[Rebonack]

Yellow Sands Waste

Twisting tunnels fashioned from solid rock. It's a bit cramped and Kothar will likely need to stoop a bit. It was, after all, fashioned by kobolds for kobolds. They're known for being a bit on the small size.

Here and there sooty marks have been burned into the sandstone, greasy black pox on an otherwise beautiful tunnel. Judging from the way the kobolds spit at the marks it isn't something they approve of.

As the round a corner the room opens up slightly, revealing what was once the common mess hall of the warren.

Everything wooden has been burned.

Everything stone has been defaced.

Everything beautiful has been defiled.

A nasty, hissing laugh splits the air. Like water dripping on a red hot stone. The kobolds are instantly alert, spears at the ready.

"How adorable," comes the hissing voice. "The little lizards are back. And they brought a friend. Hehehe..."

There. Near the edge of the room.

A shape of smoke, scarcely visible, lurking.

[bc56]

Yellow Sands Waste

"Abomination! Defiler! Your quarrel is with me now! By Tlacua you shall be destroyed!" There's divine power laced into the words, attempting to ensnare the smoke creature's mind so it becomes difficult to attack anyone other than Kothar, or to flee from battle.

[Hattish Thing]

[Conference Z - Field Facility]

Each of the scientists in range of the terrifying roar, clad all in sinister gray and red overcoats, promptly flee, tearing through the tent or tripping over tables as they attempt to vacate the area while the soldiers attempt to take control of the situation. A pair of the helmeted guardsmen, too, panic and turn tail, retreating to the back of the enormous tent, nearly slipping once or twice upon sterile plastic curtains. The other four, however, take cover, flipping desks as multicolored vials shatter upon the ground, covering the area with a variety of ominous fluids of various textures and consistencies.

Rather than attempt to communicate further, the four security guards raise their heavy rifles upon the flipped tables, grimacing beneath blank gray helmets, firing mercilessly upon Anika. As bursts of automatic fire launch small flurries of lead towards the intruder, gusts of superheated steam belch forth from within the depths of the firearm, an active cooling process which aids in avoiding rapid overheating due to the intensity by which the projectiles are shot.

--

Unfortunately, in the chaos, a stray bullet buries itself within one of the enormous canisters within the tent, piercing several plastic curtains and bursting a section of the tank. A foul, red mist belches forth from the point of rupture, falling to the ground as if somehow weighted, crimson tendrils curling and fading into vapor, its color becoming less overt as it rapidly fills the area.

Several scientists panic as captives, strapped to tables behind curtains start to scream.

[Leostales]

Forlorn Cave


Metalhead pockets some of the coins and jewelry, leaving the gold buttons and daggers behind, he'll come back for them later. He goes to the sliding door in the hallway, he wants to get this over with quickly, so that the wounded pirate/cultists can get medical attention soon, just because he takes verbal threats extraordinarily seriously, doesn't mean he likes leaving people to die.

[Rebonack]

[Yellow Sands Waste]

"Hehehe..."
"Hhahahaha."
"Hohohoho."

Tendrils of smoke and ash congeal, running together and rapidly taking on a draconic form. A wyrm made of soot and embers, eyes of glowing coals. Horns and teeth of burning wood. It gaps its jaws wide and looses a roar that sounds like the crackling of a blast furnace.

...and inside it, in that burning hellish heat, are trapped kobolds writhing in agony.

Two of Kothar's allies fall back, terrified, but Kenix steels his resolve, gripping his spear tight.

"I don't know what help I'll be, champion, but I'll fight along side you. For Seetha's memory. For all my warren-brothers and sisters who were taken by this vile monster!" then he hurls his spear! The crude iron spearhead thunks into the monster's flesh, causing ash to slough away from the wound as the ashen kobold snarls in pain and anger.

And then looses a cone of blasting heat and burning embers upon our heroes.

[Shadowcaller]

[Conference Z - Field Facility]

Uh-oh!

That wasn't intended!

Well, the shooting had been expected but that broken canister looked really bad. Whatever those goblin-mages were doing, it was probably going to get worse now.
The bear which been forced back by the unexpectedly powerful rifle fire decides to ditch the plan of attempting to take them down, the initial assault had failed to take down any of the guards so now she was getting kinda overwhelmed. Instead, she was going to have to save the sorry asses of those goblin mages before this got any worse.
The bear goes straight for the broken container and growls at it.

Amazingly, this growl is more in the style of a dovakhiin's shout as a sudden wall of breath will work to force the mist and vapors away, out of the building through the hole she made.

Hopefully that would save the mages...

[Earl of Purple]

Forlorn Cave

The sliding door slides into the ceiling at the press of a button, revealing a staircase leading down. The staircase is a U-shape, with the downstairs out of sight from the top due to the construction.

At the bottom of the stairs, there's a square room with three doors leading away- an archway concealed behind a curtain opposite the stairs, a door of iron bars to the left and a sturdy wooden door with heavy iron rivets reinforcing it. There's blood stains on the floor leading from the iron bars to the archway, continuing past the curtain. There's also a pair of cultists on guard, a hulking man with three eyes and a rattle-tipped tail like a snake's protruding from the back of his robe. He holds a blunderbuss and has a cutlass belted at his waist. The other is a man whose face is covered in scales, the nose shrunk to a pair of narrow slit nostrils above a wide, fang-filled mouth, his eyes yellow and crocodilian. Perched on his head is a tricorn hat, and he's holding a musket, though he also has a cutlass at his waist. "'Ey, Sammy. The Cap'n's called yer for a sacrifice. Head on through the curtain, the Cap'n's grabbed one o' the prisoners." Crocodile-face talks, though both guards watch him closely. Metalhead might get the impression that he's being tested.

[Murkus]

[The Old Forest]

The forest is crispy orange and yellow this time of year, most of the leaves having fallen off by now. Everything is quiet and still, except for the burrowing of small animals under the leaves.

Adir needn't worry about finding his way to the Old Man Forest, as someone seems to have come out to greet him. A large animal that looks like a wolf, a bear and neither, strides through the wood, somehow making no sound. Once it reaches Adir, it seems to sink on itself until it's once again an old, blind man in a wide-brimmed hat and threadbare clothing. He bows to Adir slightly.

"Hunter," he says in the language of the Fair Folk. "You're... taller than the last time we met. And I feel winter's breath on you. Something has changed, hasn't it?"

Adir goggles at the transformation for a second, thinking it a little less subtle than the Old Man's other forms. Then he remembers himself and laughs, bowing deeply. "Old Man Forest," says he. "Yes. Much has changed. I promise I'm not in the employ of any dark powers. There is a, um... very enigmatic woman in Riverside who hired me to be her envoy."

[Morty]

[The Old Forest]

"I do think I would have smelled it if your new mistress was evil," the Old Man Forest says. "It's an odd, cold scent, but not a foul one. And sadly, a foul smell is all too familiar to me now. You remember the story I told you of the King in Rags, don't you? He's coming back."

[Leostales]

Forlorn Cave

The sliding door slides into the ceiling at the press of a button, revealing a staircase leading down. The staircase is a U-shape, with the downstairs out of sight from the top due to the construction.

At the bottom of the stairs, there's a square room with three doors leading away- an archway concealed behind a curtain opposite the stairs, a door of iron bars to the left and a sturdy wooden door with heavy iron rivets reinforcing it. There's blood stains on the floor leading from the iron bars to the archway, continuing past the curtain. There's also a pair of cultists on guard, a hulking man with three eyes and a rattle-tipped tail like a snake's protruding from the back of his robe. He holds a blunderbuss and has a cutlass belted at his waist. The other is a man whose face is covered in scales, the nose shrunk to a pair of narrow slit nostrils above a wide, fang-filled mouth, his eyes yellow and crocodilian. Perched on his head is a tricorn hat, and he's holding a musket, though he also has a cutlass at his waist. "'Ey, Sammy. The Cap'n's called yer for a sacrifice. Head on through the curtain, the Cap'n's grabbed one o' the prisoners." Crocodile-face talks, though both guards watch him closely. Metalhead might get the impression that he's being tested.

"I thought Petey was going to be sacrificed next," he says, holding his ground.

[Earl of Purple]

Forlorn Cave

"Petey'll get his when we've got no one better. We got better to offer now, so you don't worry about it. Cap'n'll do Petey hisself. What, you think you're up on the altar? Nah, Cap'n wants you holdin' the knife." A better idea to the test would have been to ask what the name attached to the face was, since this is quite a small group everyone knows everyone else, and Metalhead knows none of it and is relying on robes and stolen faces to get through without bothering to learn names.

[Hattish Thing]

Irradiated Wasteland- Sanctum of Dust- Elf

Elimnae will move as fast as she can towards the obelisk, assuming she's been released from the lich's telekinetic grip, at least. She'll run if she can, hobble if she must, but however she does it, she wants to get there and fast.

She'd drink it again, though, if the lich told her it'd help her gain knowledge.

As the toxic, necromantic fluid courses through the elf's veins, moving forward becomes more and more difficult, with neurons failing to fire as innards are slowly digested, veins cooling, cells destabilizing with every weighted step. With legs dragging through the thick layer of ash and dust, eventually, the figure reaches the ominous onyx obelish, the sinister cenotaph, it's surface polished to a mirror-sheen.

With but a touch, the pain is gone. All pain. Sensation itself fades almost entirely, with temperature rapidly declining, heart-rate lowering, pain receivers swiftly deadening throughout the apprentice's form. What follows is a gruesome vision, a writhing black lake, all churning, hissing waters, all spattered rot, scraping nails, and shattered teeth.

The vision burns into Elimnae's mind before vanishing, just as the outstretched limb attached to the cenotaph swiftly decomposes before her, rotten clumps of flesh falling to the ground, revealing blackened bone, covered in darkened runes.

--

Malkeizathek, staring forward blankly, produces a small ritualistic athame before offering it towards the elf, whispering forth.

---

Irradiated Wasteland - The Sanctum of Dust, Drider

The drider glances towards the lich, their eyes going wide as they process what he's saying through the cloud of pain. They stumble toward the obelisk, legs moving like a new-born as they struggle to through the pain to reach the obelisk. They reach out to touch it as they get close, front legs giving out.

As the toxic, necromantic fluid courses through the drider's veins, moving forward becomes more and more difficult, with neurons failing to fire as innards are slowly digested, veins cooling, cells destabilizing with every weighted step. With legs dragging through the thick layer of ash and dust, eventually, the figure reaches the ominous onyx obelish, the sinister cenotaph, it's surface polished to a mirror-sheen.

With but a touch, the pain is gone. All pain. Sensation itself fades almost entirely, with temperature rapidly declining, heart-rate lowering, pain receivers swiftly deadening throughout the apprentice's form. What follows is a gruesome vision, a writhing black lake, all churning, hissing waters, all spattered rot, scraping nails, and shattered teeth.

The vision burns into the drider's mind before vanishing, just as the outstretched limb attached to the cenotaph swiftly decomposes before her, rotten clumps of flesh falling to the ground, revealing blackened bone, covered in darkened runes.

--

Malkeizathek, staring forward blankly, produces a small ritualistic athame before offering it towards the drider, whispering forth.