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"Ni tír- tye." the skinless rider says to Numalar. With relish it drops arrow it was holding with two fleshless fingers like a dead fish down upon the ground. Then its horse head gives a shrieking bray, and the composite thing turns and bounds out toward the moors leaving a thick clammy mist in its wake.
Sylvan:
"I shall keep my eyes upon you." After a couple of minutes the fear passes, but not its memory.
"Ulcu-!" The thing growls holding one of Zokon's arrows. Its breath comes out like a mist on a winter's night. Sylvan: "Despoilers!"
The thing breaks upon the camp a horrible composite of humanoid and horse. The humanoid part ends where a rider's waist might be and instead fuses into the back of the equine beast which it would ordinarily be riding. More horrible still is the thing's fleshlessness. Swamp-damp, red, rippling muscles draped in uprooted plants, surmounted by a pair of grinning skulls both human and horse stand out against the musculature. The horse head brays and the human head roars in challenge. It flourishes a naked steel sword in one human hand. |
