Into the Depths: Investigating the Shimmering Shore Tunnels

From a desiccated warzone, though not a veritable one, bedevilled in gaping gorges and burgeoning sculptures forged by sandstone, to a familiar foreshore cushioned in sand.

Lebraid felt, well, predisposed, if you will, to delve into shimmering’s tracery of tunnels once more. Why, howbeit, she did not know; was it an urge, perchance an insinuation, that beset all other importances to expedite what may lie far beneath, and truthfully, it was a vehemence unbidden. It fed through every artery, every vessel, nettling what plasmatic fluids gush within like a ravenous cannibal –– how delicious it felt, shivers soon oscillating atop her skin in a most sadistic, needling sensation. A cimmerian, lurid expression distorted the woman’s features, barbarous and unsettling as her demeanour bore no less of this, where stout muscles loomed over the stony earth in rather druid, leaden paces. She did not like amasses, let-a-lone conversations. Why, pray tell, was she even here? The miasma of many clung like rot against the cavern’s walls, muzzle creasing in dour disdain, exposing those malignant, ivory canines -- voices expounding, she chose to stay silent -- ogling, listening, digesting.

Mutinous, dire’s, doll’s, palettes; eyes of an achromatic nebula bared no unerring emotion, brows therein furrowing as she sat on the outskirts.

Lebraid would wait, for now.

Action. | “Speech.” | Skill.
“Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.”