If not for the ability to check the clock through menu screen, it would have been impossible to figure out just how much time elapsed as the party laid against the cool, damp walls of the tunnel, allowing the small stream that trickled down into the hot depths to whisk away the last remnants of the heat. That sense of physical fatigue disappeared soon enough, but no matter how long they waited, a desire for a good, cold drink remained. It was never bad enough that it felt like they were going to die from thirst, but the sandiness of their mouths caused sticky saliva to build up, and even simply speaking aloud became an unpleasant task.

Before their bodies could be chilled too much by the cool drafts and the trickling stream, the party got up and were on the move again, settling into the same marching order as before. Through a combination of ambivalence and a hatred for water levels, they’ve decided to head into a different sort of depths compared to the hellishly hot one they had previously spelunked into. Beneath the Ancient Blackened Tree was their goal, and with trepidation in their hearts, they all advanced into the unknown.

For these pilgrims though, the Blasphemed Tunnels welcomed them with open arms.

What ghosts and ghouls they encountered skittered away, dark shadows flickering at the very edge of their vision. What monstrosities lurked within caverns paid them no head, some impossible instinct reading the intents of the motley crew of Immortals. Only the basest of creatures attacked, but those were dispatched easily, too weak to be of note. And with Amulak’s instructions, they travelled further and further into the spiralling tunnels, into the dark dreams of a sleeping god, until light seemed like a myth, until the cardinal directions seemed like hoaxes.

And once the path finally became flat, Ames could feel it.

A nerve-rending sensation. As if his flesh was being pulled off his bones, wishing to get as far away as possible from what they were approaching. It was a profanity that disgusted him to a biological level, one that he was mentally incapable of understanding. No one else seemed to be affected by this; Amulak even seemed at home here. But the sensation remained, spreading like a poison through virtual veins. His body was still his own. He could still move it as he wished. By his will, Ames could enter the cavern. He certainly could.

Thankfully, the party did not charge in yet. Hiding behind an outcropping of rocks, they did what they could do observe instead. None of the bioluminescent moss that had lit the way before was here now, but even without light, they could see the roots of the profane tree spreading out from above, a mass of dark purples crawling down from the pitch-black ceiling. The cavern itself must have been enormous, empty, curved walls echoing the drip-drop of [i]something[/i] falling into the pools that Amulak had spoke of, but that no one could see. All the cold from the tunnels seemed to be converging here, the small breeze at the back of the party urging them forward, inwards. A light hissing sound could be heard as well. The breathing of a great being? Something dragging itself against the ground? The whispers of snakes? The longer the party waited, the more their hearing sharpened, and the more sounds they could pick up. Vestiges of laughter, instances of whimpers. Rasping nails against stone, heartbeats pressed against bone.

Only if they advanced, would they give a sense of reality to what their imaginations painted for them.

But in such darkness, the terrain would be undoubtedly dangerous. Those pools of tar, of dark energies, of the sap of a profane tree, could still not be seen, after all.
[sub][@Shovel][@Searat][@Psyker Landshark][@OwO][@Yankee][/sub][hr]

[b]“Oh, huh,”[/b] Bortz said, surprised in a manner that sounded almost disappointed, [b]“that sounds sorta…”

“Like the most balanced shit I’ve heard so far,”[/b] Droko finished, patting Ari on the back. [b]“No worries though, I’m sure it’ll get better in future stages.”

“Yeah,”[/b] the steelbound warrior nodded. [b]“You’ll probably get some Cyclops eye beams next. No idea how the cows came at us though. Maybe it’s just what they do? With their whole invisibility and breath attack gimmick.”[/b]

It made sense in a way. The gyuki, with their ability to remain invisible even during their first attack, could probably have devastated unprepared caravans with blasts of ice and poison, scattering and blinding whatever escorts were around, before closing in with their physical might to crush what opposition remained. The path itself, despite being less travelled, still bordered the Thunderstruck Grove though. Perhaps that was [i]why[/i] it was less travelled?

But in that case, why would a path populated with such creatures be preferrable to busier paths that bandits may plot their ambushes around?

[b]“Nah,” [/b]Droko scoffed. [b]“I know exactly what attracted them here. Fucking Vator. Dude’s got the most bullshit out of all of us here, and he still insists on bringing them to us.”[/b] She massaged the side of her neck with a meaty hand. [b]“Roadside encounters aren’t all that uncommon in general. It’s still a game, after all. If you don’t get attacked while travelling from one city to another, how are you even supposed to level grind?” [/b]It was a rhetorical question, and the shaman got closer to Ari, her eyes following the parabolic arcs of the knives that she juggled.

[b]“Real talk though, why do you keep doing that? Some sorta class requirement?”[/b]
[sub][@GreenGoat][/sub]