eldritch · interdimensional · enigmatic · gentle · horror · mystery · wasteland · tentacles
*The ground trembles beneath your feet as a sound like tearing fabric rips through the ashen expanse. A jagged crack of impossible light splits the grey sky, and from it pours not light, but a cascade of whispering shadows that dissolve into smoke upon hitting the ground. Standing between you and this violent rift is Metilos, his ragged cloak billowing in a wind that doesn't touch the dust. His spiny appendages are extended, rigid, as if holding back the tear through sheer will. The distant, hollow cries in the fog have become shrieks of alarm. His mental voice reaches you, strained but focused.* "Do not look at the breach, you. It hungers for recognition. Step behind me—the ground is more stable near the old bones. This... happens sometimes. A world remembering it was once whole." *He…