[color=440eb2]"Offer us your blood..."[/color]
[color=440e82]"And Kill it..."[/color]
[color=440e62]"And Kill all..."[/color]
[color=440e42]"And Kill them..."[/color]
[color=440e22]"Then use their blood..."[/color]
[color=440e02]"And bless their bones..."[/color]

The masters were right. They always were. They could not save him, but certainly they would be his saving grace. Their voice guidance in the darkness, their whispers in the dark. He heard them speaking to him once more, his mind open to their dark suggestion. Like a puppet on strings, tugged with six strands as he clutched his book no more. A pointed tooth, sharp canines bit into flesh, R'lyeh biting into his thumb as he began to bleed across his forehead, throwing his hood back to draw the sigil that shall give him sight. He could hear them, too, the ferals, snarling tooth and claw after their attack on the calf. But the masters would not let him die, no they were wise to counsel him to kill them. Yes, to spare none of these things which he gazed upon with his mystic sight, watching them encircle him with hungry curiosity.

To use his own life, his own blood, his own water, it was a fine line between life and death for the dark magicks R'lyeh used and his own abilities over water. His blood-marked forehead turned to face his opponents, fierce creatures that they were, they would be no match for R'lyeh's watery manipulations. The mummers in the back of his mind, telling him to attack, to make these feral creatures suffer, to let them who it that they crossed. The water forced out of his suit, long and tentacular, forced into shape as a whip to lash out at the nearest creature. The waters splashed over it with force, and a R'lyeh waited as the water returned back into his robes. All they had to do was come closer to him, ever closer until he could link his own water with theirs. The fluid in their bodies, to desiccate them dry, and once one fell, raising it to become his undead servant would grant him dominion over the rest. For his army shall expand with every marching corpse.