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[color=gray][sub][right][color=white][b]Location:[/b][/color] Uhladein, Eastern Marches
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hurt?

no.

empty. cold. like always. wanted to move but nothing was left to move and nowhere was left to move to. why? where did it go? couldn't remember. rainfall. heat. burning up. flame inside, flame outside, only there was no inside or outside left. where did it go, then?

Heartbeat. Not hers. Different, but familiar. Warmth flowed down her arm. Right, she had an arm, but there was more there. An elbow that could bend, head and shoulders, another limb, a spine to tie them all together... and a brain to think with.

Now it was starting to make sense, but it was still too complicated. Like trying to solve only half of a puzzle. Too many pieces missing. She needed more, but she was empty.

[i]Hungry.[/i]

Heartbeat. Hers this time. Embers sputtered and choking ash burst from the drooping shell of her severed arm, and slowly, steadily, the blade lodged in the wall began to [i]shudder,[/i] a high pitched, keening whine emanating from its resonant edge as the stones surrounding it began to crack.

Still dark. Couldn't see. Eyes. She needed eyes. She still had some of those left, right? Not hers. But they'd do. Where did they go again? Ah, it hardly mattered. What mattered was that she could see -- and what she saw filled her with the most exquisite sense of regret.

That one had been her prey. Her [i]feast.[/i] She was so hungry, and yet, she hadn't been quick enough. No, rather, she'd allowed herself to be distracted, and now that moment of clarity was forever denied to her, its brilliance fading like the dying echoes of the distant thunder. And now, what was left? A meagre helping of leftovers, hardly enough to whet her appetite... Ah, where were they heading, anyway? The tower? She'd been trying to protect that, but couldn't recall why. Her brains were still mostly smeared on that wall over there. If only she could sate this unbearable hunger, maybe it would all make sense again...

The stone cracked. The sword fell. The arm still "holding" it tensed, as the eyestalks sprouting from its severed end retracted back into the blade, and were replaced by an amorphous, swelling [i]mass.[/i] Bone and flesh and flesh and bone and stone and blood and teeth and it all came crashing down together. All as one. [i]All as one.[/i]

As a small group of voidlings pushed their luck, taking advantage of Lex and Rain's distraction to sprint for the entrance to the keep, a shadow suddenly fell over them. They hardly had time to raise their heads before a vast indescribable [i]thing[/i] fell upon them. The ground shook. The void vanished within a cloud of dust that turned to steam, and the sickening smell of rotten flesh boiling from the bone filled the air.

It wasn't enough. Her prey -- gone. Her body -- incomplete. Her hunger -- endless.

A writhing mass of muscle tissue burst forth from the cloud with all the speed and force of a serpent striking at its prey. A ribcage adorned the end of this hideous limb, opened wide -- then shutting around another voidling like the jaws of a beast. Its body swelled up as the bone "jaws" dug into it, crushing it and dragging it back into the swelling cloud of steam and fetid miasma. Then another tendril burst forth, and another -- countless writhing arms shooting out with all the swiftness of a bullet and the precision of a hawk.

A burbling sound came from within the fog as the steam and vile odor began to clear. Something massive, well over five times the size of a human, could momentarily be seen, silhouetted by the flickering embers that danced amidst the smoke and ashes of the battlefield. That burble split into what sounded like several voices all at once -- some human, others impossible to determine. One by one, this unnatural chorus died out, until only one voice remained -- the voice of a woman who laughed as tears streamed down her face, and she stepped from the fog, sword in hand -- or rather, hand firmly placed within the grasping coils of her crimson sword. Though her old attire had been completely destroyed, she yet remained clad in a ragged mantle -- no, not a mantle, but rather, the skin of her own back, flayed almost entirely beyond recognition, its trailing bulk draped over her shoulders like a sickening, fleshy cloak.

Crying eyes wide and bloodshot, she scanned the battlefield with twitching pupils, as drool dripped from her mouth, and she slowly, numbly, raised a hand with far too many fingers to wipe it away. When she drew back her hand, her lips curled upwards in a smile.

[color=#CB0B53]"[i]More.[/i]"[/color]

With a gentle tug, the sword affixed to her arm led her onward. Yes, onward, deeper and deeper into darkness; for though the mightiest peak had already fallen by the hands of another, there [i]were[/i] yet mountains to be felled, were there not?