RP Unheard Screams

You can see something glowing hot pink at the end of the tunnel... The bricks around you are of an ancient material... Dried mucus coats the ground you are walking on...

 

Blaetus's throat was worse. The pink reminded him of his sister when she was a kitten, except hers was filled with innocence and an almost sickening upbeat attitude. He floats over the slimy floor--not to avoid the mucous but to avoid slipping on it--to the light.

 

It apparently looks to be some sort of portal or something... Looks to have been large enough to fit an ark...

 

'Still, with these things it's better to er on the side of caution. These two shifters are completely unaffected by whatever these ones are affected by.'

 

Elsie looks around
-----------
Allestar looks around

 

"That's cause for alarm... Are they pink like these ones?"

You're still at the bottom of the elevator shaft with 'Sleira, while Stout and Veil go off with the core.
She pulls out a vape pipe of some sort and starts to smoke it. It smells faintly of some sort of tangy fruit...
"What a day..."
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You're still on top of the elevator... It's dark, and the surface is uneven...

 

Silverclaw surveys his surroundings, upping his guard, hoping Iactus follows suit.

 

You feel an incredible sense of unease, as would appear to be the case for the rest of the group. The cut off scream did nothing to alleviate the air of fear...
You suddenly feel a presence painfully puncture your mind...
[WIL]
You cannot resist as it penetrates your consciousness...

 

'Nope, the one in glass is gray, and the one that willfully came with us is green. Know what that means?' He glares back at the shifter.

 

The felin does the same, scanning the area. She gives herself a brief reminder to watch for anything sharp on the stairs; tetanus probably isn't the best thing to contract.

 

"Yes... It means something very, very bad has happened to Lust... And I suspect it is not in our favor that it happened..."

[PER]
You thankfully avoid tripping on the cinderblock near the top of the stairs. As you descend, you feel gripped with fear...
[WIL]
You manage to somehow continue forward... A choked scream grabs your attention as you continue through the dim hallway at the bottom of the stairs...

 

"Who are you talking to?"

 

Clair tenses at the shriek, quickly diverting her attention to where it came from.

 

Further down the hallway it would seem... It opens up into a wider space, a subway station it would seem... You can spot the group a fair distance to the left, all of them seeming to be on guard...

 

The sound of gunfire draws your ears... As does the sound of fire, and screaming kineptic... Your mind fills with visions of mangled kittens dying in their weeping mother's arms as the nursery is burned...
[WIL]
You stop dead in your tracks, your blood runs cold...
"Don't listen to it! He's trying to scare you!"

 

He closes his eyes and gnashes his teeth. "I know he is... and he's failing miserably." When his eyes open they are once again marigold, but something is different. "Cutting my paws off is one thing. Trying to steal my soul is another. But this... this isn't fear that I'm feeling." He stands up straight as nearly every muscle in his body readies itself. "This is anger!" His gloves light up like his eyes. "What I'm seeing is no different than what he's going to do to everyone! What you were doing to everyone! Anger is an understatement! This is wrath!"

He holds up his pseudoglove and activates it. "Get back, Terror! You messed with the wrong person: everyone but me!"

 

I̴ͣ̋̋͛ͩͨ͊͐̑̑́͛̐ͭ̔́̒͝͏҉͏͈͕̦̱̞̫̦̥̳̤̘̼͇̲ͅs̶̨̛̫̜̫͎̩̝̫̊̾̊̎ͥ̑̒̓͘͟ ̶̜̦̝̘̫̦̘͉̳̝̯̘̙̬̻̦̺̻̓̿͊̃ͦ̑ͧ͜͜͞t̶̎̒̅ͩͩ͗͆̀͐̽̆̐̃̓ͯ̈҉̺̳͍̣̘̪̣͢h̢̝̤̰̤̞̤̯̙̼̻͖̱̼͖̹͓̭͔ͧ̐ͮ̄ͤͩͮͭ̾̐͆͋̇̄̚͟͜a̷̵̧̺͔̯̯̪͚̫̪͇̗̳͓̥̙͛̆̿ͩ̓͘͟ͅť̉̑̆̓̓̐̐ͭ̎̓͏̴̧̩̫̮̤̤͇̘͔̝̰͓̹́͘ ̸̧̟̜̭̥͔͕͔̪͓̰̻͈͔̰̱̺͔̘͙͌͛͌͆͗̎͛͊̉ͤ̄͒ͫ͋ͤ͗ͧ̌͘͟s̶̴̝̤̤̫̫̝̖̥̗̱̰̱̻̹͕͙̹̪̻̽̄ͬ͛ͦ̀ͤͨͨ͡o̴̸̬̝̟̬̙ͦ͂͆ͦ̑̽ͣ̊̚ ̶̩̰̪͉̭̞̠̩̼̯̯͛̈̇ͨͬͮͤ̐̒͋͗̽ͧ̑̑̓͌́͋ļ̷̡̙͔̣̰̪͂̃̋̂̓̂̽̂̒͘͢i̷͖̭͈͎̜̣͉̳̞̬͇͖͖͖͎̳͖̟͇͂ͤ̅̏͛ͣͨͩ̂̀ͬͬ̓̂͆ͩ͞t̶̷͍̠̥͈̱̎ͤ̆̀͘͟t̔ͯ̔ͧ̾̆ͬ͆͛̈́̂͟҉̝̻͖̭͈̳lͧ̓̂͌̂҉̶͍̰̝̱̯͘͡ę̷̷͕̣͕͈̠͍͙͈͇̹̦̹͈̦̖̬̼̈́̊̍̓̑ͮ̿̄̇͐́̚ͅ ̡̭̺͚͖͙͇̠͉͕̰̗͇̺̼͗̿̽̒͋̽ͬ͋̎͛ͨ̓͑͌̏͟k̵̲͙̞͇̖̰͚͎̱̫̟̰ͪͮ͌ͭ̈́ͮ͒͑͛̉̋͡͡ͅi̷̝͉͉̪͇̙̤̺̩̖̝̯͈̦̞͎͓̋̐̽ͪ̽̍̿͡͡ṱ̨̣͈͇̝͖̲͔̙̺̣͓̥̅̊̆̆ͤ͌͋̅̅ͦ̾̂̋ͥ̓́͗̀͜?̵̢͖̜̻̼̮̻̲̗ͬ̀̾ͪ̓ ̢̘͙͖̖̱̗ͥͤ͐̒͗ͪ̍ͪͧ͌ͤͯ̏̂͡Tͥ͌̒̉ͩ̌ͤ̋͆͂ͮ̈́҉̯̞̹͕͖̖̟̜̖̱̱̳͇̣̣̪̗ͅͅe̵̸̢̹͔̼͈͔͉̺̠̥̣̬ͪ̄ͥ̒ͬ͋͝͝l̷̢̰̲̗͔͍͚͓͉̫̰̝̝̲͙̖̩͔̄̔̉́͆̉̈́l̩͙̯̯ͭ͛̓ͨ͂̉ͧ͗̋ͧ̀͟͢ ̸͌ͧ̌͛̍͐ͮ͒̎̈́ͧ̆ͣ̑ͮ̍̚̚͞҉̪͓̣͓̗̰̜m̎̒̏̽ͩͨͯ̂̈̔ͧ̑̈ͪ͆̿̀҉̴̢̱̫͖͓̬̺̱͝e̶͌̃ͨ͂̎̑̚҉͈̙͎̻̼̥̹͕͕͚̣̠͓͎͉̖͔́ͅ ̸͉̠͉͍͔̿̀̃̐͐̆͗̏ͯͦ̊̓̌ͮ̚ͅw̝͚̜̪̟̲̣̩̫̙̺͎̺͕͆͛̀̑̅ͯͨ̊̄̚̕͠ḩ̴̴͇̮̪͙̺̮̩̼̱͓͉̟̪̙͉̩̙̏͌ͥ̌̃͂ͥ̓̿̀͗ͤ͊aͭͩ̽͊͘͢͞͏̻̺̙̦̥̺̞̺̖̯̣̗̠̯̝͇͎̕ͅṯ̵̠̲̣̪̲̱̠̰͚̮̟̣ͭ̿ͧ̉̄ͫ̽̒̀͢ͅ ̴̒̑̏̓̾ͪ͋͐̄ͯͮ͘͘҉̱̲̭̻͈͉̙̭̻͎̼͜ͅm̭̠̯̘͎̬̮̖͎̻̹͓̗̟̱̅ͫ̾ͫ̾̐̑͆́͞a̧̞̟̦̮̣̦̪̜͖͖̗̼̹̥̣̼̿ͭ̽̒ͧͭͥ́ͅķ̵̮̮͓̺̰͕̻̰͔̹̭̻͚̽ͫ̏̄̏ͪ̍̒͒ͦ̓͂ͯͯ̉ȩ̡̠̙̖̳̟̠̟̤̞͈̤̻̲̮͂ͭ̊̋̾̌͗̿ͪ̅ͫ̓̒̾̀͟͝sͮͩͨͮ̚͏̟̣̱̯̱̻̳͢͝͠ ̏ͦ̒̈͌͌̃̾̆̓̂̂͆̄ͫ̉҉̷̧̢͓̙̜͉̯̬͈ẏ̶̢̼̲̭̤̩̠͓ͤ̔̆̏͂ͮͦ̇̇̉̆͊̚ơ̵̡̯͕͓̰̜̞̥͉̖̮̰ͮͬ̏̈́ͬ͗̿̂͛͞ū̵͖͈͚̪͕̦͓̙͒͑́̆ͩ̾̔͑̾͠ ̷̡̬̘̠̼̼̒̌͌̇̀͘͡ͅt͉̠̲͍͓̜͕̦̟̤̻͈͉͐͑͒ͧ̏ͫ̈́͐͠ḧ̝̱̳̟̥͕͔̰͕̤́̂̄̉̾̿͊ͮ̊ͩ̾ͥͥͣ̿̓͐͜͢i̸̡̙͎̣̝̙͈̮͂̌͛̑̍͜n̍ͯͣ̽̉̈́̔̅̽̉͒͏͉̹̙͕̳̘͓̣͓͈̪̰̦̕͞ͅk̷̺̮͉̱̱̰̘ͣ͛ͣͧͦ̊̅ͨ̿͑̎̆̑͒̆̕͡ ̴̀ͮͤ̆͒ͨ̎̓ͭ҉̵̷̻̖͎͍I̡ͫ̒̆͗̿̿ͭ͑̆҉̱͎̪͘ͅ ̡̻̲̰̥̠̺͍̜̘͙̟͕̠͉͍̫͇̐̓͋͑͠h̸̵͓͙̟̞̝͔̬͓̺̘̝͙͕̯̯̻̝̟̔̎̅͛̆̏͆̾ͪ̑̿͋ͪ̄̅ͯ̐ͧ͢͞ͅa̶ͨ́̏̽ͣ̐ͯ͐́͛͑̕҉̝̞͓͍̯͖̲̦̞̟́ͅv̧̛̔̏͆͑̌ͫ̀ͨ̂̇̒̋͌̚͞҉҉̼̱̜̹̺͚e̶̶̙̩͚̥̹̣̺̳̾̅̈́̋ͯ̌͊ͧͯ͒ͩ̒́ͯͧͫͪ̑̐̕n̢̙̞̤͚͙̹͍̱̰̫͎̼͚̻̞̯̋̽̃̌ͫͩ͗͒͌͐̋̿͂̊̋ͭ̉͗̒͟'̿̃ͬͭ̇҉̨͚͙̜̜̟̞̗̦͚̘͎̮̝̼̠͚̗t̴̼̟̤̟̭͍͓̜̦͖͛͂̽̇͌ͯ̉̊ͧͨ͛̊̀͠ͅ ̸̠͎͕͖̙̺̥ͦͮ͒̽̾́̐ͬ̀̚ͅa͌͑ͪ̿͛̅̿̓ͪ̇̾ͣ̈͋͋̋̀̎҉̢̱͚̭̲̰̮͙͜͟ͅl̡̢̧̧͙̮̼͓ͬ͊͂́͊̔̽̏͋r̒͛ͬ͗̈́̾͒́̚҉̖͉̝̜̲̦͡ë̶̲̳͎̼̻ͬ̔̀ͤͯ͒̑ͨ̈́̚͘a̶͔̠̱̫̬̺̗͚͕̟̟̪̪̞̜̺̋͑͒ͧ̔̑͑̎ͮ͗̈͞͝d̵͌ͩ̇̌ͭ͏̶̭̱̫̹̻̳̲͉͖͔͈̩̤y̸ͥ̐̋̄̍̍̃ͣ̃́҉̬̞̘̝̯̱̮̭͉̭̖̼̹͇̦̞͘ͅ ̸̵̡͈͇͓͖̭͖̮̟̣̫̹̲̃̐͗̅́͡m̸̧̙̫͓͈͍̻̲̭̲̰̜̤ͥͫ̎ͥͫ͆̿̓̾̓̅͛̚͡͡͞ȩ̸͈̳͖̱͔̻͕̯͇̪̟͉̳͕̲̈́̀̍̔ͧ̔̍̕s̟̠͈̱̹̱̗͚̩͍̩̟͑̇̔ͯ͜͞͝s̅̒̈̂ͭ͂͛̓ͨͥ̓́̀͘҉̭͇͓̦̺̻͚̗ȩ̵̞͔͉̲̦͎̙͚̠̲͉͙̹̹̮͈̘̀͗̌̐̈́̆ͨ̆͂͋̿ͫ̒́͜͡d̨̛̘̜͕̜̺̰͈̭̙ͥ̆̌̓͊̉͋͑ͦ͑̽̽͛ͫͬ͞͞ ̗̞̯̎̅̆̇̌͡ͅw͚͍̺͈̰̩͔̽̋ͣ̀ͅi͌ͫ͋ͬ̍̔̑̂́͞͏̤̟̻̙̤̺̥͍̩̗͕̹͚̥ẗ̷̟̱͍̲͖̣͕̩̳̱̻̏ͫ̉͂̑̿̿͒̊́͆̍͊͆ͧ̂͘͠h̷̟̫͖̙̘̱̼̖̜̺͍̣͈̜̙̲̬̅͒̾ͮͭ̚͢ͅ ̵̧̝̦̜͉̥͎̘̘̞̹̳͎̳̦̬̋̔ͥͩ̊͛̿ͧ̐̄͊ͦͯͨ̈̔̿ͧ͢ͅy̸̢̲̫̜̹͓͇̠̱̥̫̪̟̪̮̔ͯͣ̀ͥ̾̈́̽̈́͞ͅơ̢̡̛̬͙̝̤̓̐̽͆̊̍͆͂̂̾ͫ̍̑̽́u̸̫̣͔̺̤̭̺̦͇ͪͧ̿ͬ̃͞?̸̳̳̙̪̰̭̹̭̺̭́͋ͬͥ̿ͮͥ́͘͟͡
̶̬̗̭͖̥̲͔̗͉͉̳̭͋͋́ͬ̌̉̎̑́̈́̓͐̾́͠ͅḀ̹̰̹͙̻̖͕̞̺̞̬̣̘̣͉͉͂̑ͭ́́ͬ͠͡ͅn͋ͫ̊͐ͧͬ̏̔ͪ̐̀͏̡̭̩̝̙̻̪̯̹͙̬̖̹d̷̄͛̔͂͐ͨͣͨ͆̍̊͞͏̭̩̦̖͚̹͈̠̭̟͔̠̩̝̣̜̲͝ ̐͆̒̓ͫ͋̃̃͐͂̈́ͬ͊̀́ͨͮͦ͗͏̙̝̻̖͚̲̜̭̣̖̀ͅw̸̴̢̛̪̭̺͙̭̜͕̦͇̬͇̰͈̲̻͙̱̱̦ͫ̑͆ͯ͂̽ͪͣ̚h̸̡̛̼̹̣͇̩͍͍͓͉͇̼͔͍͖̥̹̲͎͑̊͒͌ͥ̽ͩ͑͛͑͋́a͑ͧ͐̏̏͋͒̅̋͆̈́͋̅̏͏̵̢͕͉͎̤͔͓̟̭̕͟ͅt̴̨̞̜̪̮̻̩̩̹̯͍͖͕͇ͫͫ̇͐͢͠ͅ ̓͑̇ͥ̎͢҉͚̥͔͔́m̶̷̼͈͇̟͍͖̅̉͊̃͊̐̑ͤa̘̼̙͙̦͍̯͕̐ͣͫ͋ͪ̆̆ͭ̉ͯ̄̄ͬ̀͠k̛͉̻̙̖̍̈́̎̆ͦͫͮͨ̀̉̋͛͊͒͂ͮͤ́́͞e̢̧̘̻̻͔̩̘̤͙̤͇̲̰̜̼͖͕̻ͭͥ̅͊̽̄ͤͤ́͡ͅs̢̧̬̠͕͇̝͕̹̝̝͓̤̾̑̇́͜ ̷̨̡͓̱͉̝̜͖͔̻̠̝̰͉̱͙̤͂ͥ͊͋͂̿̿͠y̘̦̠͇͇̹͚̬̞̟̮̤̭̠̻̦̦̟ͣ̐͆̍́̈̃ͫ̆͐̇̄̉̋͂̓͢͡ö̙̻̩̤́͗ͧͨͫͣ͌ͥ̆̈̽̇̓ͥ̇ͩͤ̉̐̕ū̷̯̭͍̹̻̺̞̜̫̭̲́͐ͤ͋̍̄̿̋ͧ͊͒̔̎͂̄͜͠ ̡͕̹͍͖̓̊͌̒͗̏ͭ̎͝t̘͉̜̤͑̇̌͘͞h̡̡̛̻͚̺̱͓ͩ̿̓͐̓̃i̴͉̤͙͖̝̟̰ͬ̑͛̅̎̅̄̎ͫ͗͂͛̈́̀́͢ṅ̸̵͈͇̱͔̥̟͈̮̯̐̃̆̇ͮ̍̎̋ͮ̾̍̅̊ͨ̑ͣ̅ͫͅķ̶̶̜̞͖̬̹̱̄̊̐ͭ͐͑ͭͨ͐̑̈́ͫ̓̓̆̇̚͜ ̡̢̬̣̟̦͙̹̞̄ͭ̓ͫ̉͌̊͌̽͑̂͡ȋ̧̛̝͎̗̲̱̞̜̯̼̠̜͕̓͒̈̂͗̆f̛̙̼̣͓̞͔̠͓̜̬͍̲̝͎̍̇ͨ͆̐͌ͯ̐͑̍̍͟ ̷̧̨͍̥̖͍̫̦̰̟̜̠̳̄̒̆͗͑̓̀̀̽̒̚̕̕ḩ̢̛̪̳͈͔̰̰̯̦̥͈̗͈̻̖͇̇ͣ͛̄̇̋̓͑̄̋ͭ̚a̾ͨͦ̇̑̅͑͞҉̪̦͕̻̩͉̯̺͍̟͜ͅv̙̺̮̫̖͇̰̟͖͉̯͕̎͗̏̑͐̽̃ͯ̉ͤ͌̑́͝e̷̟͉͎̱̦͉͖̫̰͍̋ͥͤ͆͆̓̄̊̊̋ͩ͂̕͘n̨̨̘̬̖̞͖̱̖͓̞̺̩͚͎̪̎̇ͨ̄̌̈́̔̓̈́ͤ͒̏ͤ͐ͪ̍'̸̸̛͚̜͕̝̼̹͖̲̋̈́̓ͣͪ̓̿̀ͅt̶͈̣͓̯̝̭ͩ͐̀̃̇͒̽͛ͫ͊̔ͦ̇ͬͭ́̚ ̡̯̲̜̹̭̞̪̻̺̘̯̇̾̒ͣ̈́̿́͟͝ͅą͓̘̣̤͈̫̮̮̱̐͊̃ͩ́͝ͅͅl̋̄̓ͭ̐ͬͨ̐ͥͥ͑̃͂̈̋͑҉͏̢͉̟̫̗̱͚͖͍̗͓̹̳͔ͅr̢̧̮̳̳̹͇̩̻͈̜̥͚̲͕̂ͩ͆̃̏ͪͦͪ͆ͨ͞ͅͅe̸̝͍͉̩̹̹͇̥̫͓ͦ͗̎̄̌ͫ̚a̸̢̢̛̹̪̠̰̤̮̦͍̼̝̥̞̤̘̰̬̟ͦ̽̇͌̈́̈́ͧͨ̌d͚͎̠̫̝͓̮̥̤̜̻̖̝̦̭̱̩̠̪͐̉͂̊͊ͣ͋ͯ̓̄̓ͮ̈́̀̚͢y̛̱̩̻͇͍ͣͤ̒̎̉̅ͪͧ̆ͣ̉̅ ̗̳̮̼̥͎̰̼͕̪̿ͬ̈́̿͟͠ẘ̙̟͎̥̫̠̖̣͔̞͓̫̩̼͍͕̉̓̉̽̓̀̓͊͑̐ͭͯ̾̂ͣ̚͢͟ͅȯ͓̫̘̦ͤ̐̅ͤ͛͢͠n̸̴͖̱̯̼̜̖͖̘̺̭̹̣͙̖͕̻͍̮ͭ͊̓̏̒́́?̵̨̬̻̩̦̤̞̻͕̲̪̲͕̅̅̀͗͑͋̍ͦ̓͋̐̓̌̑̅ͣͦͬ͛͟͡ͅ
However, one eye is not marigold... In fact, it seems to be unnaturally dark... unlike that of death's, it is not a void. It seems to emanate pure darkness... The sound of the fighting drowned out by incredibly dark thoughts racing though your mind. Thoughts that by all rights should not be yours...

 

"What choice do we have?"
"I'm too old for this sort of thing... I've still got fight, but my mind is duller than some Terran films I've watched..."

 

"If you feel the need to sit out, I will not stop you. We will hash out the details once we arrive."

 

'Let's get that poison and then get back to Lust's domain, we need to see what the hell is going on.