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<blockquote data-quote="Eccles" data-source="post: 1523943" data-attributes="member: 5675">This one came a couple of nights after the previous one. The group haven't worked out what the creature 'telling' the story is yet, but Aeron has decided that it shows that someone is marching somewhere.---You flap your wings, in an effort to escape the mass of movement which comes from further up your tunnel. Your flock had grown fat on duergar fleeing up the tunnel in recent weeks, singing your song, and then wrapping your wings around them in a warming embrace; nestling your mouth into their necks, and then savouring the flow of warm, fresh blood and flesh in your mouth. Then the first arrived. They would not react to the songs of your flock. They would not stand like the dumb, dull duergar. They would not flee your shrieks and cries, as had so many creatures before them.They continued to struggle, even when in your embrace, and they killed all the while.Alone of your entire flock, you managed to break free and fly, a ragged tear in one wing.Your efforts to escape the bipeds exhaust you, and soon you can only manage a short glide from outcrop to nesting site.Until a small form, wiry and incredibly strong, leapt out from a niche in the rocks. One arm grasped at the tear in your wing, whilst the other clutched a rusty cleaver. One shrivelled eyeball hung from the hook nosed face, which screamed as it hacked at you, spittle and particles of rotting flesh flying from its mouth.Unable to bear the weight, you crash to the ground in a tangle with the creature, and then all is black.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Eccles, post: 1523943, member: 5675"] This one came a couple of nights after the previous one. The group haven't worked out what the creature 'telling' the story is yet, but Aeron has decided that it shows that [I]someone[/I] is marching somewhere. --- You flap your wings, in an effort to escape the mass of movement which comes from further up your tunnel. Your flock had grown fat on duergar fleeing up the tunnel in recent weeks, singing your song, and then wrapping your wings around them in a warming embrace; nestling your mouth into their necks, and then savouring the flow of warm, fresh blood and flesh in your mouth. Then the first arrived. They would not react to the songs of your flock. They would not stand like the dumb, dull duergar. They would not flee your shrieks and cries, as had so many creatures before them. They continued to struggle, even when in your embrace, and they killed all the while. Alone of your entire flock, you managed to break free and fly, a ragged tear in one wing. Your efforts to escape the bipeds exhaust you, and soon you can only manage a short glide from outcrop to nesting site. Until a small form, wiry and incredibly strong, leapt out from a niche in the rocks. One arm grasped at the tear in your wing, whilst the other clutched a rusty cleaver. One shrivelled eyeball hung from the hook nosed face, which screamed as it hacked at you, spittle and particles of rotting flesh flying from its mouth. Unable to bear the weight, you crash to the ground in a tangle with the creature, and then all is black. [/QUOTE]

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