Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26052600-20160203043235/@comment-25547106-20160225032301

Armstrong merely nods as he continues his chanting, only this time, with each passing minute, his words did not increase or decrease in volume, but seemed to desync from his lips, as though they were moving either ahead or behind his moving lips. As the minutes ticked by, his lip movements grew more slight, until, on the final chanting, he no longer spoke at all. ''Now. With the freedom to confer ideas directly to you without the distraction of words... I will show you the world as it was... So very long ago...'' Grigor replies, his voice seemingly echoing through DM's mind.

Before too long, DM began glimpsing images and smells, sounds and flavors, pains and pleasures he'd never even dared to dream of. The acrid, pungeant aroma of a Black Dragon's silver tongue. The sting of fire so intense, it could smelt iron; its source none other than the snarling fury of a Red Dragon's roar. The heaviness of the air when in the mere presence of an ancient Blue Dragon as it roused from an eternity of slumber. The chill in the air as a White Dragon drips freezing saliva upon flesh. He felt the inability to breathe as the terrible sight of a Green Dragon stepped forth, its poisonous breath seeping along the ground like a fog. And then he saw the visage of the Chromatic Dragon God-Queen herself, Tiamat, rising from a ring of flame seemingly dug into reality itself; a pit of hellfire beneath her as she clawed her way out of a seemingly endless abyss of death and brimstone.

And that was merely the beginning. DM saw the Legendary Tarrasque, devour a city whole in an evening, felt its roar shake the very ground, and felt its digestive acids burning his flesh as he seemingly punched and clawed his way out of the beast's gizzerd to escape its digestion. And next came the Abberations. Beings of unknowable evil and age, from beyond the realms of time, life, death, and desolation themselves.

The Mind Flayers in their full and horrid glory, clamping their hideous tentacled jawls down upon the cranium of a crying, screaming child before the child fell mute, blood streaming down her face, mixing with her tears and covering her now empty eyes. The Aboleths, from beyond time, beyond the age of dragons, before the worlds knew gods and the ages knew history. Their deep empires of horror and mental anguish beneath the tides.

But there was more, so very much more! Some things, like the Kracken, which he thought he knew, gripping ships in only single might tentacles and tearing them in half, its maws rising from the seas like a whirlpool into death itself. And others that he'd never known, like the humble Modron, a clockwork being from an endlessly winding plane of clanking, turning gears.