[The entire space twists in immediate defiance. The edges crack with cacophony.
Vakama stumbles back at the change with his hands pressed against his skull, tools clattering against the grates behind him. The laser flies true and the tendril flails with an unholy screeching, a burning that smells like rot and rubber. But just as it withdraws, a second tendril whips up and around the forge to snake around the Matoran's ankle. He's lifted up with a yell of alarm, whipped and slammed hard against the top of the forge.
Delusion indeed.
It's a voice that echoes from nowhere, piercing but echoing. A reverberation, not a source.
we're wasting time--
--hunting down just because of--
--so sure about this--
Break the delusion.
Who is responsible?
The heat starts to rise suddenly. Drastically.
As Viktor's hexclaw winds down from its attack, the surroundings morph again - the wreck of an enormous open furnace almost unfathomably tall, s̸͕͓̄ǒ̴̱̪͈̠͌͐ṁ̸̛̠͌̑ḙ̷͍̺͂̿̕͝ť̶̫͌̊h̸̛̛͓͓͈̾̒į̵̘͙͉̀̈n̴̢̩͉̺̏̎̀g̵̨̙̎ boiling in its catastrophic flames.
With another whipping snap, Vakama is fully thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
What time was wasted in your incessant searching?
What lives brought to suffer?
For a split second, as Vakama weakly struggles to his feet, his form flickers to normal -- stumbling towards Viktor, a hand outstretched that wraps with building, swirling fire.]
Viktor -- together, I told you, I'm not going to l--
[But that same shadowed tendril grips him tight by the waist before his thought finishes, and his form changes right back, yelling and shoving for purchase as he's lifted right back into the air.
Viktor will find his limbs drawn down on the spot in a rain of unavoidable projectiles. Hundreds of thousands of seeded capsules fall from the ceiling; cracking open where they land, growing quickly like a mass of writhing, multiplying snakes of rot and plant and darkness, grasping out to anchor his feet back to the floor, to wrap him still and drag him to his death.
No matter whether Viktor acts or stays still, he will feel his power is draining without replenishment.]
cw fires, tentacle/snake imagery just to be safe
Vakama stumbles back at the change with his hands pressed against his skull, tools clattering against the grates behind him. The laser flies true and the tendril flails with an unholy screeching, a burning that smells like rot and rubber. But just as it withdraws, a second tendril whips up and around the forge to snake around the Matoran's ankle. He's lifted up with a yell of alarm, whipped and slammed hard against the top of the forge.
Delusion indeed.
It's a voice that echoes from nowhere, piercing but echoing. A reverberation, not a source.
we're wasting time--
--hunting down just because of--
--so sure about this--
Break the delusion.
Who is responsible?
The heat starts to rise suddenly. Drastically.
As Viktor's hexclaw winds down from its attack, the surroundings morph again - the wreck of an enormous open furnace almost unfathomably tall, s̸͕͓̄ǒ̴̱̪͈̠͌͐ṁ̸̛̠͌̑ḙ̷͍̺͂̿̕͝ť̶̫͌̊h̸̛̛͓͓͈̾̒į̵̘͙͉̀̈n̴̢̩͉̺̏̎̀g̵̨̙̎ boiling in its catastrophic flames.
With another whipping snap, Vakama is fully thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
What time was wasted in your incessant searching?
What lives brought to suffer?
For a split second, as Vakama weakly struggles to his feet, his form flickers to normal -- stumbling towards Viktor, a hand outstretched that wraps with building, swirling fire.]
Viktor -- together, I told you, I'm not going to l--
[But that same shadowed tendril grips him tight by the waist before his thought finishes, and his form changes right back, yelling and shoving for purchase as he's lifted right back into the air.
Viktor will find his limbs drawn down on the spot in a rain of unavoidable projectiles. Hundreds of thousands of seeded capsules fall from the ceiling; cracking open where they land, growing quickly like a mass of writhing, multiplying snakes of rot and plant and darkness, grasping out to anchor his feet back to the floor, to wrap him still and drag him to his death.
No matter whether Viktor acts or stays still, he will feel his power is draining without replenishment.]