Yttermayn's "Saga of the Dragon Cult" (IC)


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"NO, by Holy Pelor!!!" The paladin falls to his knees in front of the fallen shape, staring dumbly at it, his handsome features pale in the torchlight.

OOC: Welcome, Leif!
 

ooc: We used to call it frem. (Fine Red Mist)

As each of the companions closes on the form, realization dawns on their faces. Roderic is clearly saddened and horrified, Rosalia's fair features are marred by lines of worry and fear. Even Tuk's stony countenance seemed to twitch, but maybe its just the wavering torchlight.
At the foot of the modest cliff lies the slowly crumpling body of Grok. A thick black ooze leaks out of the slumped body, particularly from the conspicuous wound across his throat. His skin sags from high points on his bones, and even the bones can be seen to be dissolving under that thinning membrane. In a few minutes it is unlikely anything will be left of Grok but a black puddle.
Tuk notices with cold detachment that Grok's equipment seems to be melting away as well.
 

Not stating nothing about Grok itself, Tuk offers "Strange. Why are his things melting as well? The ogre's things didn't turn black ooze."
 

Overcoming her disgust Rosalia manages to reply: "Hum, you're right for once grumpy boy.. maybe this thing is not Grok but more like a 'creation' made of black goo.. a copy of Grok.. but it still doesn't explain where Grok is.."
 



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