Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160820182648/@comment-28358106-20160826040724

Hearing the shouts in the distance, Hound, Ibrahim, and Lucida stop and listen. Ibrahim grabs Lucida's hand. "Lu, focus on me.  On me.  Okay, honey?" The hurry along, as Lucida feeds energy to her father.

The hairs on the back of Hound's neck stand on end...

Deidre turns to speak to her soldiers, her voice authoritative. "All right, Shatterhand.  I want four schiltrons, one cannon each, formed up over...what it that?  What's going on?" She turns to the source of the commotion.

Armata hears something he has not heard in millennia...

Praetor braces behind his shield, holding his torch high. Rangers line the low rocks behind him, lighting their arrows. He braces, Rhun tensing up as they hear what no one else yet can. It is a sound, on the cusp of the mind.

The Chaos language. The tongue of the Deep Ones...

The cacophony of madness...

He can hear it as Rhun feeds the sound directly into his mind, bypassing his thoughts and all reason,  its throbbing rhythm sounding out the steps to delirium... 

He can hear it. He can understand it as it closes in...

...H'hRhu Un...

...N'zho Hnan...

...H'hRhu Un...

...N'zho Hnan...