#exsanguinators

Whispers of Madness - Continued...

With the lockbox reclaimed by the Exsanguinators, the dragon was no longer keen to maintain her vigil amongst the contingency traveling through the sands. Having sustained damaged wings, she was far more comfortable to retreat from the endless sea of sand. 

Though with trust once again compromised, she was with unwelcomed thoughts and feelings once more. Perhaps it would be best for her to keep away from all. 

More desert. Sand. Ew. Part 2! Here’s to next time we meet, hm?

Love: Tziska has seen so little of Ji so far, but... Ji snarks. There’s a wit and fire in there and Tziska definitely enjoys that. At least, when it’s not directed at her.

Her fingers itched. Ordinarily, when Tziska felt the unbearable urge to move her dead shell and remember the will still inside it, she would dance the tip of her dagger between spread fingers, ever increasing speed to keep her muted reflexes sharp. But there was no hard surface to lay her hand against besides her own armor. Sometimes, she would tap a blade or a pen or a stick or anything against her armor, the incessant noise of motion enough to keep the leash on her monster tight. But there was nowhere to make loud tapping noises that wouldn’t distract the night watch from their duties.

Sharp.

The death knight sat in silence, the need to move thrumming through her even as it did battle with exhaustion from an entire day of watching her limited store of runic energy drip, drip, drip out of her hands and into canteens for the rest of the team. Hard to think of them yet as a team where she belonged. Attempts at civility had been met with such a chilly reception she feared starting a bloodbath if she got any closer to her truly abrasive personality. The days of fitting in were long gone.

Bloodbath.

The woman snoring to her right was the most in danger. Between the sarcastic ‘cupcakes’ nickname and the terrible lack of respect for personal space, Spite already wanted to take a cheese grater to the bottom of the one-eyed woman’s feet. Right after she carved away the obnoxious mage’s hands in a hundred delicate slivers of meat.

One-eye.

Expeditions were never to be undertaken without a comfortable cocoon around the Famine prowling in her head. When she’d started, its claws had been blunted after raking them down Cadmus a few days before she sought out the mercenaries. It should have been more than adequate, especially once she gave the monster free reign on moving targets during the mission. But there was nowhere hard enough, solitary enough, stable enough, open enough - nothing but a constant drain of resources and no promise of getting her hands on a sanity battery. Spite needed to wait. A loss of control here would be a thistlepuff away from the atrocity that had driven her back into combat, and two of those in a row could send her back to a grave. She winced in the darkness; the one-eyed woman reminded her of Cadmus and his one good eye.

Monster.

She should’ve had at least two weeks before the craving started eating away at her like this. The need to move overwhelmed her where she sat in the sand, waiting out the night. Bending forward, Tziska started to draw glyphs in the sand. None of it was part of her latest line of research; only one man was privy to that. But the doodles for frivolous things like making the sand magnetic or drawing lambent mana to the surface in a soft blue glow were distracting enough to keep her from turning to Farrow and trying to take her apart just because she was too close.

Wait.

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The Sha Campaign Conclusion! Photoset 3. Because Lamb couldn’t resist capturing the scorpion one-up battle in the background while we all stared at the screen and thought about how we barely scraped our way out of the cave before becoming pancakes.