she has, in fact, heard that voice before. she's heard that exact phrase, and it curls up in her chest and in her throat. it locks her up. she just holds her axe in mid air, staring at the bones, and does not move, until datz calls for her. she nearly drops it, startled, and looks over her shoulder at him with very brightly glowing eyes.
just for a second.
and then:] What? Yeah. I'm fine.
[and her eyes are normal, and she puts her axe on her back, and brushes at her face. for whatever reason, she doesn't seem to want glory to be touching her, right now.
instead, she makes her way back over to the other three, and... to crick:]
[ While everyone else is off checking if everyone else is mentally alright, Ponta peers into the forest behind the pontiff, from where the fog seems to be closing in on them.
His dagger, presumably retrieved from Glory, is now back in his hands.
This is the direction they need to head into if they want to find the source of it all, huh? He doesn't want to be caught off guards by any more weird fog hands. ]
[ ah... that really doesn't seem fine, but he nods. actually pretty much no one here seems fine, but there also doesn't seem to be a whole lot they can do about that right now, especially with the fog coming in from every direction. ]
Don't think there's much left that we can do here.
[ an apologetic glance at crick; sorry for thieving from this guy you knew and then not even being able to bury him... ]
We should go ahead. Anyone needs help getting around, let me know.
[ crick doesn’t move, at first. he’s just looking at the pontiff: when he speaks, his voice is slow, as if in realization. ]
Something...something’s wrong. I - you all need to get away from here, as quickly as possible. There’s...
[ he looks at the body, for a moment longer, shoulders hunched. ]
...The Pontiff has been dead for weeks now. I saw - we found him, in the Cathedral, he was killed by a felvarg, by the -
[ there’s a shivering, terrible wind that blows through the trees - it’s powerful, and a mournful, low howl echoes through the wind. crick freezes, his head snapping up, and he scrambles back to his feet, and calls - ] You need to get out of - go, right now! Get out of here!
[ you only see her for a second. in the midst of the choking purple fog, a glowing eye stares back at you through a mop of white hair - an unnatural, horrible shape, and the swing of a giant sword that cuts through the growing fog like a hot knife through butter. there’s a cackle of a laugh. it might be talking. it’s hard to tell. crick jumps backwards, but he doesn’t break his stance, as he protectively puts himself in front of the group: he grits his teeth, and calls out - ]
Don’t fall into the night! Whatever you do!
[ as you’re preparing to fight this creature, or whatever it is you want to do (maybe run? running is a good idea), the fog starts to get thicker, and thicker. it all happens so fast. there’s the sound of metal and metal, and then the sickening sound of metal through flesh, and -
when the four of you look back, crick wellsley is made of blue light - intangible. the body he was defending is no longer the man in white, but that of the knight himself.
crick - no. crick's ghost - looks back at the four of you. there's something wistful in his voice, that sounds like it comes from another room. ] This is all I can do. I wish I could still protect you.
[ he looks to nimona, and his expression, just briefly, crumples, then turns to a smile. ]
Tell him I’m sorry. [ and then, crick wellsley, godsblade, dead man, raises his sword and lets out a mighty cry: ] The truth lies in the flame!
[ the creature shrieks, and there’s a brilliantly blue flash of light.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I suppose that answers where people have been vanishing to.
[ he keeps a wary eye on their surroundings but otherwise he's content to give their guest party member a moment to mourn ]
no subject
she has, in fact, heard that voice before. she's heard that exact phrase, and it curls up in her chest and in her throat. it locks her up. she just holds her axe in mid air, staring at the bones, and does not move, until datz calls for her. she nearly drops it, startled, and looks over her shoulder at him with very brightly glowing eyes.
just for a second.
and then:] What? Yeah. I'm fine.
[and her eyes are normal, and she puts her axe on her back, and brushes at her face. for whatever reason, she doesn't seem to want glory to be touching her, right now.
instead, she makes her way back over to the other three, and... to crick:]
... Crick? Are you okay?
no subject
His dagger, presumably retrieved from Glory, is now back in his hands.
This is the direction they need to head into if they want to find the source of it all, huh? He doesn't want to be caught off guards by any more weird fog hands. ]
no subject
Don't think there's much left that we can do here.
[ an apologetic glance at crick; sorry for thieving from this guy you knew and then not even being able to bury him... ]
We should go ahead. Anyone needs help getting around, let me know.
no subject
Something...something’s wrong. I - you all need to get away from here, as quickly as possible. There’s...
[ he looks at the body, for a moment longer, shoulders hunched. ]
...The Pontiff has been dead for weeks now. I saw - we found him, in the Cathedral, he was killed by a felvarg, by the -
[ there’s a shivering, terrible wind that blows through the trees - it’s powerful, and a mournful, low howl echoes through the wind. crick freezes, his head snapping up, and he scrambles back to his feet, and calls - ] You need to get out of - go, right now! Get out of here!
[ you only see her for a second. in the midst of the choking purple fog, a glowing eye stares back at you through a mop of white hair - an unnatural, horrible shape, and the swing of a giant sword that cuts through the growing fog like a hot knife through butter. there’s a cackle of a laugh. it might be talking. it’s hard to tell. crick jumps backwards, but he doesn’t break his stance, as he protectively puts himself in front of the group: he grits his teeth, and calls out - ]
Don’t fall into the night! Whatever you do!
[ as you’re preparing to fight this creature, or whatever it is you want to do (maybe run? running is a good idea), the fog starts to get thicker, and thicker. it all happens so fast. there’s the sound of metal and metal, and then the sickening sound of metal through flesh, and -
when the four of you look back, crick wellsley is made of blue light - intangible. the body he was defending is no longer the man in white, but that of the knight himself.
crick - no. crick's ghost - looks back at the four of you. there's something wistful in his voice, that sounds like it comes from another room. ] This is all I can do. I wish I could still protect you.
[ he looks to nimona, and his expression, just briefly, crumples, then turns to a smile. ]
Tell him I’m sorry. [ and then, crick wellsley, godsblade, dead man, raises his sword and lets out a mighty cry: ] The truth lies in the flame!
[ the creature shrieks, and there’s a brilliantly blue flash of light.
and then you’re alone.
THE WARRIOR / THE HUNTER / THE DANCER / THE THIEF ]