Unclean Flesh
First Day of the First Month 293 AC
"Gladly will I accept your help, my friend," you answer after a moment. "But not as a scout to then risk tainted stone and whatever vile things it may have spawned." So saying you armor yourself in scales of crimson and a shroud of sorcery you take up, a gleaming shield at your side. The shadows do you call also to whisper fate's secrets in your ear.
Beside you the others prepare each after their own manner, to see the threat and to slay it. What was it Vee had said to you once? Ah yes:
Better that the trap you spring is the one you see coming.
You strike your staff against the stone and call forth a storm of black wings and gleaming eyes. The cawing of ravens echoes against stone where its like had never been heard, then heedless of whatever instinct held other simple creatures at bay they pass into the tunnel at your behest. Echo Caller gives them a startled but approving look before melding into the stone, likely seeking to ambush whatever may come through the tunnel as Rock Shaker had done the spawn of Tiamat.
Thus for a few brief moments the others wait, sword and seals of power in hand while you scout ahead on a hundred wings and peering though a hundred eyes.
The tunnel is eerily quiet, even the sounds of wing-beats and feathers brushing against stone lost entirely, even the croaking voices of the ravens are muffled as though the stone hungers for the sound of living things... then without warning a dreadful babble that sounds as though it is spoken in all the tongues of the world at once erupts from somewhere above and beneath it the horrid wet sound of flesh dragging over stone.
A wave of screeching screaming, horridly pleading flesh and mouths and eyes tumbles onto the farthest of your ravens which are simply buried under warped flesh. The rest of the birds are driven mad by the cacophony, tearing into each other and themselves attacking flesh and stone with mindless horror. Yet you still see far more of the monster that now fills the tunnel like a canker in the earth's belly.... screaming in madness beyond mortal ken, as spittle and tears of vitriol flow outwards.
This foulness you know, though no thinking race has ever thought it deserving of any name past the most basic, perhaps to shield themselves from the horror of its existence: That Which Gibbers or simply
Mouthers.
"Are they coming out?" Ser Richard asks calmly, hearing the horrid sounds of the creature, though thankfully muffled by the stone.
"No," you answer, thankful that this form gives you a strong stomach. "
It is staying in place, but it's blocked the tunnel entirely." There must be some manner of intelligence guiding or controlling the creature, or else its hunger would drive it out seeking warm blood.
What do you do?
[] Write in plan
OOC: The reason a huge creature can fit into a space a large one would have to squeeze through is that a Gibbering Mouther is just a roiling mass of flesh. Also no pictures for this one because they are rather disturbing and I did not know if they would have been acceptable on the site. Better safe than sorry in cases like this.