The air became the stuff of Teralok’s nightmares though, of which he had plenty, and for some reason he felt like it was somehow familiar.
As the cub hopped sheepishly to its mother in these conditions Teralok finally burst the orb in his hand like glass and it fell away into the warm naten it was constructed of. The darkness in his soul had felt the madness intimately, somehow he was drawn to this aura to the point he had to take a step to balance himself. The rotating tattoo on his back stopped abruptly and slowly started going the other way.Famine wrote: ↑Sun Aug 30, 2020 3:36 pmThe young turned on their mothers and docile creatures became wrathful, as bedlam sowed roots in every creature's consciousness-in their presence. Leaving their minds hollow, their faces plastered with grim, vacant expression-even while being devoured by their kin. This madness was par for the course in the presence of the Horsemen, but even more so in the company of famine. As her presence actively stressed their senses with mind gnawing anxiety, devouring their lucidity and leaving their souls famished. One look at her eyes ushered men into bedlam, proving the folly of hope as they quickly submitted to psychosis or worse. This madness was the curse of famine, leaving man and woman alike starved for sanity, stripping them of rationality and bathing their minds in a never ending tumult of anxiety--rushing them to oblivion. Yet, the argol cub seemed unaffected, how?
The snow would begin melting around him as his eyes flashed purple and a certain type of energy struggled to flare around him. Certainly this feeling wasn’t what he was brought here for, he was worried for his comrades safety at this point, from his own hand.
Zeik wrote: ↑Mon Aug 31, 2020 5:04 pm
"Draw your Animus!"
He said with a guttural shout, the words themselves practically choking him. He quickly stood up and searched for the source of his pain, activating his infamous skill, origin vision. His eyes, glowing with the prismatic iredesence of his birthrune-Origin vision, he scanned the area and found the source of the spell.
Was that the only reason Teralok was still standing, his Animus was already here in locked inside the mountain. It also felt like it was actually getting closer.
It was her voice for Teralok, the grating of the dark language communicated with something the warrior hated acknowledging. The tattoo on his back sparked into overdrive and his energy finally broke from his skin like a flock of birds escaping death. He didn’t even care what she was saying, the warrior was hearing something that he couldn’t ignore. On the contrary something that had him focused with such intensity that his energy found itself flocking towards him again from the ground up. Building upon itself and him a dark crystal armor that reflected the little light that the dark horsemen allowed.The presence, now more a faceless shadow, locked their attention to Zeik and despite the twinstars floating high over the alps of chaos, the sky ran a deep crimson red. The horseman halted its approach--keeping roughly 4 meters of distance, just close enough to expose the travels to the full force of her toxifying Aura. She rose her finger and pointed the thin, shadowy appendage towards the party.
"You got my message, Hellgate?"
Said a feminine voice the travelers only heard in their heads. She spoke in a dead tongue, a language none could decipher, which sounded like a tumult of pained screams. Famine stood boldly into the light, but her appearance remained veiled.
"Who among you, can still breath?"
Said a very strident, but sultry voice into their heads, observing their suffering from atop of her Steed
“Yes” he seemed to muffle from beneath the crystal to Zeik “I hear her... very well.” Speaking out loud as if he was out of breath.
Fully armored in a black crystal his eyes flashed with its residue and his faceless armor finally rested on the decrepit horsemen like he was just noticing it had hooves. Chaos was literally what Teralok was born from, madness always put a wicked smile on his face, and the screams of the innocent always made his toothy grin drool. The only thing is, life can never exist in that presence. The warrior had no idea why he was born, he doubted his existence and his power every time he stopped to listen to the planet. This is what he knew, it is what always drove him to sleep for as long as he did, he thought he should be dead. Not knowing if he was in control himself in the presence of his friends made him remember that. With that thought alone however a handle grew from the dry ground a foot or two behind Teralok, too short to notice and literally too quiet to make a vibration it sat quietly.