Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160820182648/@comment-28358106-20160826140152

Praetor's eyes strain against the darkness. He sees the branches straining against each other, the odd hues of the air. He closes his eyes and listens...

''"N'ghwaw!  Home...Ph'nglui mglw'nafh...want to go...home..." ''

And he sees the shadow as it blots out the distant trees, massive amd malleable, vibrating. It's moving perpendicular to him, not towards him, towards something else. He sees whiplike tentacles reach out...

"What...what is that sound...?" Dee's eyes squint shut and she grits her teeth, slumping to her knees. The nearest Dwarven phalanx does the same, confusion and fear on their faces as they lower their weapons and cover their ears. Armata can hear it, too, but it is not the first time he has spoken with the Old Ones...

"Uunngh...My...Lord..." Dee begins to writhe in pain. Suddenly her legs are jerked out from under her and she is dragged into the shadows, screaming.

""LORD ARMAATAAAA!"