Borkka
You take a few tentative steps into the clearing, careful to remain silent even after seeing Makis' blatant evidence that their slumber is not easily disturbed. Eventually you find yourself standing amongst the people of Tor-Matu who are no longer the people of Tor-Matu. You stare into the lids of their eyes, under which their eyes are strangely still.
The silence in the valley is enough to set the hardiest of men on the edge of their nerves, and you can't help but jump a little when you hear Mikus take a few more loud and clumsy steps as he walks through the masses.
You casually glance back to the sentinal beside you and are alarmed to find his dead blue eyes staring back at you. He reaches an arm towards you as you take a terrified and clumsy step backwards. Your back connects with the back of another as you fumble to bring your club up in a defensive position.
As before, the unsleepers are slow, but not quite as slow as the ones you've encountered before. It would appear the controllers are becoming stronger.
Quickly, you bash one of the sleepers' heads in with your club. You spin around to see the masses swarming towards you. Silently, you offer a prayer to the maker as you smash your club into the side of another one's head, turning the skull to mush and flesh to a sickening pulp.
Just as you drop one, another replaces him, and you find yourself swingin frantically at the sleepless masses, the spikes on your club relentlessly driving through flesh and bone. Your arms grow weaker as you work your way into the heart of the crowd.
As you step further into the masses, you take note of a body falling accross your path, a young man who stares up at you with lifeless eyes. Silently you offer a prayer for Mikus before workinng to avenge him by felling one puppet after another.
You soon find yourself side by side with the dark haired stranger known as Crow. He fights with a tactful grace, each blow precise, not wasting a single movement. While you swing wildly at the masses, sometimes taking two down with your mighty blows, Crow dodges attacks and strikes down men with well calculated counter attacks. Your own battle prowess makes you feel clumsy and oafish beside him.
Though they may be slow, they have the numbers and despite your attempts to avoid it, eventually you succum to the masses and find yourself being trampled under the feet of scores of men and women.
You don't know how long you are down there, but eventually the pain dulls. The light of the world fades and you feel, hear, and see nothing. The last taste in your mouth is of blood. You vaguely understand that the blood is your own.
The silence in the valley is enough to set the hardiest of men on the edge of their nerves, and you can't help but jump a little when you hear Mikus take a few more loud and clumsy steps as he walks through the masses.
You casually glance back to the sentinal beside you and are alarmed to find his dead blue eyes staring back at you. He reaches an arm towards you as you take a terrified and clumsy step backwards. Your back connects with the back of another as you fumble to bring your club up in a defensive position.
As before, the unsleepers are slow, but not quite as slow as the ones you've encountered before. It would appear the controllers are becoming stronger.
Quickly, you bash one of the sleepers' heads in with your club. You spin around to see the masses swarming towards you. Silently, you offer a prayer to the maker as you smash your club into the side of another one's head, turning the skull to mush and flesh to a sickening pulp.
Just as you drop one, another replaces him, and you find yourself swingin frantically at the sleepless masses, the spikes on your club relentlessly driving through flesh and bone. Your arms grow weaker as you work your way into the heart of the crowd.
As you step further into the masses, you take note of a body falling accross your path, a young man who stares up at you with lifeless eyes. Silently you offer a prayer for Mikus before workinng to avenge him by felling one puppet after another.
You soon find yourself side by side with the dark haired stranger known as Crow. He fights with a tactful grace, each blow precise, not wasting a single movement. While you swing wildly at the masses, sometimes taking two down with your mighty blows, Crow dodges attacks and strikes down men with well calculated counter attacks. Your own battle prowess makes you feel clumsy and oafish beside him.
Though they may be slow, they have the numbers and despite your attempts to avoid it, eventually you succum to the masses and find yourself being trampled under the feet of scores of men and women.
You don't know how long you are down there, but eventually the pain dulls. The light of the world fades and you feel, hear, and see nothing. The last taste in your mouth is of blood. You vaguely understand that the blood is your own.
