"Not much to tell, really. Like many around the Worldwound, I've grown up with the threat of the Abyssals. I was a war orphan raised in the temple, and taught by both the Paladins of Iomedae and her clergy in preparation to help the city of Kenabres. I hope to be able to do that by setting an example to others."
"I know I originally come from the Dragon Empires as well, or at least my previous selves do. I know for a fact that one of them was from Tianjing, like my father. They both fought the Qlippoth there."
Neile may be somewhat mad and prone to mood swings, but Ulfr's stories calm her, his deep, resonant voice wrapping around her in the dim light of the caverns, comforting her like a warm hug or a hot drink. She listens, enraptured, to his tales, pointing out how silly they are at times - "Nono, animals can't talk!" and other such giggles - but allows him to tell them, each relaxing her a little more until she trots along beside him, lucid and smiling. At one point, Gail hovers in front of Ulfr's face, head tilted to one side as if to ask him his secrets, before flittering over to Tehina's shoulder in search of Merular.
You almost don't notice, but in the quietness beneath the stone, you hear something. A muffled, almost sighing sound that slowly becomes more distinct, more unnerving, like the drone of a horde of locusts, but it's too regular, too distinct for that. It's more like a chant, a prayer. To what, well, it may be best not to think on that too long.
Karas heard the sound and stopped raising a finger to his mouth for a moment and shushing everyne.
"Do you hear that? What is that!?" he said looking over to the others.
Neile tilts her head comically, a finger to her lips. "I don't hear anything," she says quietly. Then she giggles. "Well, I hear lots of things, but I don't think you hear what I hear!"
Ulfr's response was to move faster. Let's not find out what it is. Come on.
As you roam the tunnels, the droning closes in. Growing louder and louder no matter which way you turn. It feels as if a thousand thousand eyes watch your every move. Horgus even ceases his incessant grumbling as you try to navigate away from the sound. Anevia and Aravashnial look about, worried. The rock walls begin to blend together. Are you walking in circles? Is this some foul sorcery?
Then the droning gives way to a guttural chant. The air itself warps around you and a wave of terror, sickness, and pain washes over everyone save Karas, You don't know how, but it is certain that what you felt was the Worldwound opening ever wider and devouring Kenebras.
When the air begins to twist, your entire being is plunged into agony. Burning, freezing, and sheer undiluted pain wash over you as you feel your spirits in anguish. Bear howls in rage and fear. Slaver and Killer whimper, unused to not being the ones in control of the fear. Shaman grimly mutters a chant against the tide. Prince, only looks upon you, seemingly unharmed by the calamity that had befallen the others.
"I am sorry little one," he says, "but I fear it is too late for Kenebras now."
And with that, five beings become one as the tide washes over them, emotions and memories become impossible to sort out. The only one who remains distinct is Prince, looking at what was happening with a deep and terrible sadness in his eyes.
Ulfr does what he always doors against the darkness of fear and terror, meet it had on with the power of his homelands! As the music spikes and becomes fear incarnate, Ulfr roars into a battle hymn taught to him by the War-Chief of Belzken who had taught him how to drum. His drum, which he had never used before, comes off his back and clubs are drawn from his waist. His huge war drum joins his voice in a defiant, furious song of standing against all odds, even at the cost of being cut low. For only then will the ashes of your enemy smell sweet.
As the droning noise begins to close in, Neile clings tighter to Ulfr's arm, eyes wide and round as saucers. "What's happening, Jingly-Man?" she whispers fearfully, her voice small and insignificant against the sound, her heart beating frantically behind birdlike ribs. When the drone becomes a guttural chant, she claps her hands over her ears, dropping into a crouch.
Then the pain hits.
She screams, feeling only pain, her shrill, pitched voice bouncing off the stone walls, confusion and fear gripping her mind. Bear roars, his deep voice splitting through her head. She feels Killer and Slaver's fear, their very real panic a the loss of control. Shaman's chant does nothing to stem the pain, the fear, the sickness that grips at her guts.
"What's happening Prince?" she begs desperately, staring upwards as if into the face of some unseen being. "Why does it hurt so much? Why do they scream when they're dead? How can it hurt them and me at once? It can't be gone, it can't, I won't believe it!"
Bimbur draws an arrow advancing stealthily.
Karas begins to stride to the beat of the drum as his knuckles crack and he joins Ulfr's march to meet the threat in front of them.
Ulfr transfers the little girl's grip from his arms, which he needed for drumming, to a vile of the sturdier fetishes at his waist. This way he wouldn't toss her into the air in an up-beat.
With the wardrums, Bimbur feels fifteen feet is fine. Surprise is highly unlikely
Tchirash takes the point behind Bimbur's scouting.