The Spirit’s hands were against its face after slurping down five of the mysterious spheres. It felt a power pulsing within its gut, filling its body and forcing it to expand. The Spirit grew tall. The surviving white Spirits at its feet were the size of a bunny standing on its haunches by the time it grew to its six-foot-three height. Its skin turned black, body thickened, becoming shapely with hardened muscle. Passing through its skin were black fibers that wove and tightened about its body into a suit, so far foreign to this world. Lowering its hands from its face, its face was still white—perhaps lingering pigmentation from its spirit form. No longer was it and it, it was a he.
Black eyes roved down his body and hands pressed and touched all over the suit that covered it. Lifting one foot and then the other, he felt the weight of the boots on his feet. His head rose, eyes following to pass over the six other Spirits who had greedily devoured the strange spheres. They too had turned into something. What? He did not know. Standing before him and gazing up at him like a child was a white spirit, silently and curiously watching him. The ascendant bent the knee, slowly lowering to one knee as he felt his weight. He knelt before the spirit and held out his hand to the creature as it raised its own hand to touch his palm. He smiled, and then he felt sad. Why couldn’t the frail creature had been like them? It was weak. Nameless. It was nothing. It was what he used to be. Friends, allies, are you there…?
The man peered over his shoulder to see a strange creature holding a lantern. Although the creature did not look like him, he knew they were kin. They were all souls before the Horned Guard died.
“I am,” he heard himself say though the voice had not left his lips. It hummed from his very being. It was low and masculine. It sounded smooth yet electronic. E..engaging target..
The voice hadn’t been familiar, but the statement had. He looked over to see a man also wearing a suit of some sort, readying a blade against one of their comrades. His eyes widened and he stood in shock.
“What are you doing? Stop!” he ordered sternly. He gave an order…had he been a commander of some sort before? Captain…
The disturbance in the lava pit stopped the assailant. Captain gazed along with the others at the horn that surfaced and cut through the vibrant yellow and orange pool. The lava rose in a wave that threatened to crash against the land. Wings unfurled from the lake, revealing just how colossal the creature who had been stirred had been. The power…he felt the creature’s power bombard him in waves. It made his heart rapidly hammer in his chest and his breath thin. It was suffocating. We should escape before that…thing catches us…
Captain had been thinking the same thing. He made a motion to run, but then remembered the spirit who obliviously continued to stand there. It looked so helpless. He gazed over at the pin of hundreds of thousands more. He couldn’t save them all, but he could save this one. Captain knelt and delicately picked up the Spirit within his hands and laid it across his shoulder.
“Hold onto me,” he told it before he started to quickly follow after the bug-face and the strange tailed-woman he carried along.
Those who decided to run would come to a stone bridge stretching several yards across an ocean of sulfur. There was a figure on the bridge, draped in black and holding a staff with a red burning crystal. His voice projected loudly, resonating throughout the bubbling cavern for them to hear:
“This way! I will show you the way out!”
Could they trust him? Could they afford not to? The man vanished into a black wisp and bursting from the wisp was a red crow.
The bird cried so they could follow its voice through the inevitable chaos. The entire cavern was waking up. Crawling across the ceiling and down the walls were fleshy creatures, awakened by the spilling of souls and the awakening of their lord. Blood poured from their bodies, latching onto the ceiling like a thread as thirty
of the eight-armed creatures descended from the ceiling to ambush the ascendants on the bridge. There were ten behind them, ten in front of them, and ten skittering beneath the bridge where the ascendants couldn’t see them. They had the body of a man and a woman. Their hips were sensually rounded and swayed as they crept toward the ascendants with pointed toes like a dancer. Hunger dripped from their mouths that parted, revealing yellow and jagged teeth. One started to scream, and the rest chorused in, filling the air with shrill and unbearable screeches.
Those who remained behind to confront the Lava Lord…
I need to know whose characters are remaining behind to confront the lava lord, so please "mention me" if you plan to do so. Just a warning to those naively following along. I am a GM. Similar to a DM. I am not your friend in this game. I am guiding the story, but certain decisions players make will always have consequences whether they be good or bad. If your character dies, then they will start all over as a Spirit, and will have to wait until the next scenario or until the group comes across Spirits again. Yes; you also lose ALL of your souls. It's usually faster to wait until the next scenario, but you never know. Take this warning into consideration as you make logical decisions throughout the game. You also cannot rely on my PC to always help you make logical decisions. He is expendable.Strategy:
There are a total of 30 Fleshnids on the bridge. They are Ascendant 1
much like yourselves. How you go about defeating them is up to you all. HOWEVER, the longer you remain on the bridge, the more Fleshnids will arrive. For each turn the group remains on the bridge and doesn't advance, I will add 30 more Fleshnids. Yes, they're like a serious pest problem.