Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191023222228/@comment-24510587-20191023235042

Emile was, seemingly, unfazed by what was happening - at least, in the sense that he was already jittery and anxious to begin with, and not much about that changed.

In the distance, to his right, he heard something. Orcish battle cries. He glanced in that direction, but the fog meant he couldn't see where it was coming from. Then, from his left, repetitive rumbling. The march of Jehannan soldiers encroaching on his position. Behind him, scraping metal... the brass-clad swarms of the Golden March. And inside his head... the whispers. Those ungodly whispers. Promises, temptations, terrifying secrets.

With nowhere to hide from any of them.