Unbalanced
You try to make your way back, but find that the rubble has shifting considerably. It would take more power than you have to move it now.
As you turn to continue down the only path available, a sudden high-pitched whistle pierces the air. It drills at your brain, and you drop to your knees, stunned.
"MY CHILDREN, DEFEND ME!"
The voice echoes through your skull like a hammer through glass, shattering your mind with crystalline tones. Though you feel no different, you are urged forward, body limply springing to life with renewed vigor. Making your way down the hall, you instinctively turn right at the crossroads, climbing the long staircase to the cathedral.
It takes a while for you to reach the top of the stairs as the injury from the spell still lingers. Glancing to the side as you climb, you notice the slumped corpses of the group from earlier, their robes black with blood and pink with torn flesh. For some reason, this doesn't even occur to you as anything other than the way it has to be.
Stepping off the final stair, you find yourself on a large ivory platform, adorned with several elaborate statues of men and women in robes. The platform sits above a massive audience chamber, filled with the chaos of combat. Black-armored figures slam axes into torsos again and again as insect-like mantids chant in a low buzz, their swaying projecting a shield of azure against the shadow light streaming in from the sky. Standing opposed to them, an army of figures in robes cut at the warriors with daggers made of white hot steel. Dozens of the blue-robed figures dot the crowd, wildly swinging flails topped with spiked skulls, claiming lives on both sides.
On the platform with you, however, a single battle ensues. A black-armored figure, his left arm hanging limply to the side, deftly dodges a coil of green light. The woman attacking him sneers, her golden skull-mask cracked down the center, revealing an ancient face. She recalls the green light like a whip, preparing to strike again. For the briefest of seconds, you feel uncertain of your actions, but that feeling fades quickly as you throw yourself on top of the wounded warrior. Surprised, he lets our a roar of pain as the light whip coils around his leg. Instantly, the steam erupts from the seams in his armor as the smell of burning flesh fills the air.
He screams for a second more, then falls silent. You climb to your feet, but as you do, a hand presses against your forehead.
"Good little soul. You will go with me into the end."
With a sensation like having received a warm hug from a dearly missed friend, you simply cease to exist.
DEATH 04
As you turn to continue down the only path available, a sudden high-pitched whistle pierces the air. It drills at your brain, and you drop to your knees, stunned.
"MY CHILDREN, DEFEND ME!"
The voice echoes through your skull like a hammer through glass, shattering your mind with crystalline tones. Though you feel no different, you are urged forward, body limply springing to life with renewed vigor. Making your way down the hall, you instinctively turn right at the crossroads, climbing the long staircase to the cathedral.
It takes a while for you to reach the top of the stairs as the injury from the spell still lingers. Glancing to the side as you climb, you notice the slumped corpses of the group from earlier, their robes black with blood and pink with torn flesh. For some reason, this doesn't even occur to you as anything other than the way it has to be.
Stepping off the final stair, you find yourself on a large ivory platform, adorned with several elaborate statues of men and women in robes. The platform sits above a massive audience chamber, filled with the chaos of combat. Black-armored figures slam axes into torsos again and again as insect-like mantids chant in a low buzz, their swaying projecting a shield of azure against the shadow light streaming in from the sky. Standing opposed to them, an army of figures in robes cut at the warriors with daggers made of white hot steel. Dozens of the blue-robed figures dot the crowd, wildly swinging flails topped with spiked skulls, claiming lives on both sides.
On the platform with you, however, a single battle ensues. A black-armored figure, his left arm hanging limply to the side, deftly dodges a coil of green light. The woman attacking him sneers, her golden skull-mask cracked down the center, revealing an ancient face. She recalls the green light like a whip, preparing to strike again. For the briefest of seconds, you feel uncertain of your actions, but that feeling fades quickly as you throw yourself on top of the wounded warrior. Surprised, he lets our a roar of pain as the light whip coils around his leg. Instantly, the steam erupts from the seams in his armor as the smell of burning flesh fills the air.
He screams for a second more, then falls silent. You climb to your feet, but as you do, a hand presses against your forehead.
"Good little soul. You will go with me into the end."
With a sensation like having received a warm hug from a dearly missed friend, you simply cease to exist.
DEATH 04