D
DrowsyPangolin
Guest
Original poster
Oliver struggled to maintain his balance on the shifting earth, his knees threatening to buckle as the ground shook beneath him. Vito extended an arm in assistance, and the priest gave him a thankful nod, backing away from the edge of the cliff. "I've had enough of the sea for a while." His hand flew to his face, holding up his glasses as he looked about at his companions. It seemed everyone was alright. He watched the temple with baited breath as Alana gave her warning, but the stony building seemed to maintain its integrity even while its foundations shuddered and shook beneath it. Then, as suddenly as it had began, the quaking ceased. Oliver let out a sigh of relief. "Everybody alrigh-." A low, gurgling sound came rumbling up from the depths of a nearby chasm. The sound was unnatural, unnerving, but very much alive.
As the sound rumbled up from the chasm, the remaining wisps began to wail and cry. Before they had sounded melancholy, but their new lamentations were not those of sadness, but of fear. They were far louder now than they had been previously, and their cries were deeply uncomfortable. Oliver's eyes danced about. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. The ex-priest took a step toward the chasm, his fist clenched at his side, but halted in his tracks as a gurgled roar echoed up from the abyss. The sloshing, bubbling sound was now accompanied by a scratching, a scraping, like steel on stone.
Four massive fingers found their way over the chasm's edge. Their flesh was black and bubbling, like thick tar. Jagged, bony fingertips protruded from the black sludge, yellowed and worn. A smell of rot and decay billowed out from the boiling flesh as the fingers dug into the sheer rock, pulling upwards. A behemoth of a creature raised itself from the crag, its flesh bubbling and writhing as its twisted body came into view. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but monstrous in size. Its body seemed to consist entirely of horrid black sludge that smoked and bubbled, dripping from its frame. Ragged yellow bones jutted out from the rancid sea of ooze in places, suggesting some kind of skeleton lay beneath the repulsive slime. Its left arm, the one it had raised itself up with, was abnormally large, even in comparison with its massive form, and hung nearly to the ground. The right arm was malformed and shrunken, hanging limp at the creature's side. The monster's head was the only portion of its body that didn't consist of the black tar, instead, a mass of thorns rested upon its shoulders. The thorns were of a deep wine red color, and formed a dense thicket around where the abomination's head should've been. Within the depths of the vile growth, a sickly pale light shone through. Coming down from the head, the thorny vines wove throughout the monster's flesh, evidently integral to its construction. Two bony protrusions jutted forth from the monstrosity's back. They seemed to have once been wings, or perhaps they had never grown to that point in the first place, whichever the case, they clearly were not serving their purpose.
The beast rose to its feet, towering over the onlookers around it. It raised its monstrous hand upward, toward a nearby cloud of Greys. With a disgusting snarl, a mouth opened wide on its palm. The gaping pit was lined with rows upon rows of jagged teeth, and a long, black tongue fell from the gaping maw as it opened. The shrieking of the greys reached a fever pitch, but the sound of rushing air drowned out their cries. The titan's hand seemed to inhale them into its gullet, and they cried no more. Its task done, it turned to the party at its feet. The creature leaned forward, its thorny head only a few yards from Oliver. The ex-priest looked upon the horror before him, the color rapidly draining from his face. He had been told of monsters in his life, of vile fiends that corrupted the faithful and killed the innocent, but this was a true monster. The creature reared back its great arm, giving the man little time to react. He raised his arms to block the strike, but the force of the blow sent him flying backwards, tumbling across the rocky terrain towards the church.
Oliver raised himself from the ground, coughing and sputtering. His arms had taken the brunt of the monster's attack, but the sheer force of the blow, along with his impact on the ground, had battered him quite a bit. He forced his way to his feet, feeling the ache radiating through his body as he did so. He'd lost his hat and glasses, and his body was scratched and bruised. His arms, though, had survived the encounter wholly intact. He looked around to the others, then back to the monstrosity before them. It blocked their only escape route, and as sturdy as the church was, he doubted it could take too much of a beating from that sort of beast. The priest spat out a mouthful of blood. Their only option was to fight, but there was no fighting something like that.
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Anabel stared, her deep blue eyes wide with horror at the nightmarish demon that loomed before her. She shook her head, her skin going paper white. "No, no, no..." She backed away, her knees shaking as cold dread needled the pits of her stomach. She couldn't comprehend the thing that now stood before them. She had barely been able to comprehend the world as it was. It was all too much. She wasn't meant for this, she wasn't strong enough to deal with horror like these. The girl bolted, running back into the church. Somewhere inside, she knew that running was pointless, all that stood across from her was a sheer cliff. There would be no escape. She was trapped.
She made it about halfway through the church before she dropped to the ground, shivering. She clenched her eyes shut. "Just wake up, just wake up. This isn't real, it can't be real." Her fists clenched, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get away. She wasn't going to wake up. She was dead, and it looked like she was about to die again. "Please, no. I just wanted peace. I just want to get away. Far away." She curled into a ball on the stone floor. "Somebody help, I need help, anybody... please..." She lay there, shaking, gritting her teeth.
"We can help you little one... you just have to feed us." Her eyes opened. The blade lay before her on the floor.
As the sound rumbled up from the chasm, the remaining wisps began to wail and cry. Before they had sounded melancholy, but their new lamentations were not those of sadness, but of fear. They were far louder now than they had been previously, and their cries were deeply uncomfortable. Oliver's eyes danced about. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. The ex-priest took a step toward the chasm, his fist clenched at his side, but halted in his tracks as a gurgled roar echoed up from the abyss. The sloshing, bubbling sound was now accompanied by a scratching, a scraping, like steel on stone.
Four massive fingers found their way over the chasm's edge. Their flesh was black and bubbling, like thick tar. Jagged, bony fingertips protruded from the black sludge, yellowed and worn. A smell of rot and decay billowed out from the boiling flesh as the fingers dug into the sheer rock, pulling upwards. A behemoth of a creature raised itself from the crag, its flesh bubbling and writhing as its twisted body came into view. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but monstrous in size. Its body seemed to consist entirely of horrid black sludge that smoked and bubbled, dripping from its frame. Ragged yellow bones jutted out from the rancid sea of ooze in places, suggesting some kind of skeleton lay beneath the repulsive slime. Its left arm, the one it had raised itself up with, was abnormally large, even in comparison with its massive form, and hung nearly to the ground. The right arm was malformed and shrunken, hanging limp at the creature's side. The monster's head was the only portion of its body that didn't consist of the black tar, instead, a mass of thorns rested upon its shoulders. The thorns were of a deep wine red color, and formed a dense thicket around where the abomination's head should've been. Within the depths of the vile growth, a sickly pale light shone through. Coming down from the head, the thorny vines wove throughout the monster's flesh, evidently integral to its construction. Two bony protrusions jutted forth from the monstrosity's back. They seemed to have once been wings, or perhaps they had never grown to that point in the first place, whichever the case, they clearly were not serving their purpose.
The beast rose to its feet, towering over the onlookers around it. It raised its monstrous hand upward, toward a nearby cloud of Greys. With a disgusting snarl, a mouth opened wide on its palm. The gaping pit was lined with rows upon rows of jagged teeth, and a long, black tongue fell from the gaping maw as it opened. The shrieking of the greys reached a fever pitch, but the sound of rushing air drowned out their cries. The titan's hand seemed to inhale them into its gullet, and they cried no more. Its task done, it turned to the party at its feet. The creature leaned forward, its thorny head only a few yards from Oliver. The ex-priest looked upon the horror before him, the color rapidly draining from his face. He had been told of monsters in his life, of vile fiends that corrupted the faithful and killed the innocent, but this was a true monster. The creature reared back its great arm, giving the man little time to react. He raised his arms to block the strike, but the force of the blow sent him flying backwards, tumbling across the rocky terrain towards the church.
Oliver raised himself from the ground, coughing and sputtering. His arms had taken the brunt of the monster's attack, but the sheer force of the blow, along with his impact on the ground, had battered him quite a bit. He forced his way to his feet, feeling the ache radiating through his body as he did so. He'd lost his hat and glasses, and his body was scratched and bruised. His arms, though, had survived the encounter wholly intact. He looked around to the others, then back to the monstrosity before them. It blocked their only escape route, and as sturdy as the church was, he doubted it could take too much of a beating from that sort of beast. The priest spat out a mouthful of blood. Their only option was to fight, but there was no fighting something like that.
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Anabel stared, her deep blue eyes wide with horror at the nightmarish demon that loomed before her. She shook her head, her skin going paper white. "No, no, no..." She backed away, her knees shaking as cold dread needled the pits of her stomach. She couldn't comprehend the thing that now stood before them. She had barely been able to comprehend the world as it was. It was all too much. She wasn't meant for this, she wasn't strong enough to deal with horror like these. The girl bolted, running back into the church. Somewhere inside, she knew that running was pointless, all that stood across from her was a sheer cliff. There would be no escape. She was trapped.
She made it about halfway through the church before she dropped to the ground, shivering. She clenched her eyes shut. "Just wake up, just wake up. This isn't real, it can't be real." Her fists clenched, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get away. She wasn't going to wake up. She was dead, and it looked like she was about to die again. "Please, no. I just wanted peace. I just want to get away. Far away." She curled into a ball on the stone floor. "Somebody help, I need help, anybody... please..." She lay there, shaking, gritting her teeth.
"We can help you little one... you just have to feed us." Her eyes opened. The blade lay before her on the floor.
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