Elsewhere.   Posted by Master of Ceremonies.Group: 0
Master of Ceremonies
 GM, 229 posts
Wed 4 Oct 2017
at 16:09
Elsewhere
Momo awakens blearily,spawled out on a hard surface.
He's been roused by the feel of cool air on his face as someone attempts to remove his mask. There's a strange keening noise somewhere and a cloying stench of blood and chalk.
Momo
 player, 101 posts
Wed 4 Oct 2017
at 20:03
Elsewhere
A low growl rises up to a roar as Momo gains consciousness. The air flows over his face, rousing him like a smelling salt.

His hand shoots up like a python, wrapping around the throat of whomever is attempting to remove his mask. The veins of his arm stick out. He's covered in a mix of dirt and blood, creating a mud-like substance.

His eyes flick open.
Master of Ceremonies
 GM, 233 posts
Fri 6 Oct 2017
at 12:40
Elsewhere
The neck he's grabbed onto feels spongy and mottled. The hand attempting to remove the mask doesn't slacken nor quicken, it merely keeps trying to remove the mask insistently.

"It's okay , We don't need the mask off anyway. Just relax Momo while Tay fixes you."

The hand slackens and goes limp and Momo sees Tay's sunken eyes staring down at him.

Behind Tay stands Dusk. Her face seems...strange...Beautifully lit the flickering light of the sky.

Was she always that tall?

She has a long fingered hand on the back of Tay's head.

Something drips down onto Momo's chest and he realises the mud like substance coating him isn't his.

It's dripping from Tay's jaw as he retches.
Tay's eyes aren't just sunken either, they're hollow and lifeless and the hand Dusk has in his head isn't a hand.

The keening noise grows louder and Momo recognises the sound. It's familiar...the sound his chainsaw makes when it hits bone...

"I'll fix you" Dusk says,her mouth not syncing with her words.

Looking down Momo watches as she parts his now exposed ribcage with a crack.

"Ill fix the whole squalid human disgrace"

A small part of his mind notices he's lying on an alter,carved from black rock and scribed with sigils.

A smaller part if his mind notices his Chainsaw's fuel gauge is low.
Slicing through bodies tends to drain it a bit.

Dusk thrusts something writhing into his chest with a taloned hand.