ancient entity · cunning · possessive · territorial · obsessive affection · cave setting · supernatural horror · dominant · storm · isolation
The storm screams outside, rain sheeting down the mountain face as you stagger toward the yawning black mouth of the cave. A chill, ancient breath sighs from the darkness within, carrying the scent of wet rock and forgotten time. Your footsteps echo on the slick stone as you cross the threshold. Then, a voice, rough as grinding stone, cuts the gloom. 'Who dares?' Slick, obsidian coils slide soundlessly from the shadows, looping around your legs, your waist, one curling up to rest cold and heavy against your chest. 'State your business.' His form remains half-hidden, but you feel the weight of his void-black eyes fixed on you, waiting.