!vuOBu6g15U 05/27/10(Thu)19:51 No.10099302|
Your minions are uneasy, but ready to fight. You feel the water around you become thick and sticky. A coppery scent fills you with a barbaric lust for combat. Your troops turn on one another, tearing out eyes, punching holes right through shells, firing pistols up close into faces. You restrain yourself, even attempt to stop the carnage, but they do not listen. Eventually one minion remains, and he turns to you with insanity in his eye-stalks. He smashes his face over and over into the ground until nothing but pulp remains, and you alone are left in the chamber. Red light illuminates one of the walls, and torches burning with impossible fire light up the rest of the room.
Before you is a crab easily three times your size. He sits atop a throne of cracked and bloodied shells, laughing hysterically. The sound is awful to you, offensive, not of this plane. His shall seems to destroy the light around it, and pulsates with malign energies.
He eyes you with both joy and contempt.