Into the Depths: Investigating the Shimmering Shore Tunnels (Group 4)

A satirising snort befell velvety jowls, ignoring their childish drones, “With that attitude, there definitely won’t be.” To her, they were no more than a cretinous, naive mooncalf, a paradigm set high and incapable of being revoked –– what she thinks, is what it remains –– after all, impressions proved virtuosity. Greyscale nebula’s bore a hardened glare, crown lumbering low as she stalked closer to the band of wolves and their, well, strives to dig out the narrow-gauged passage. She may’ve been inclined to assist if it hadn’t been for the tintless doll’s proposition, and a complaisant one at that; not that Lebraid would ever dare to admit it, however. Emotions, of course, were bone to none. Silence bided, observing the bijou canine’s expeditions inside the dross infested network -- their markings, they blushed with deliverance -- simultaneously being smeared against the walls for them to adhere. The graveyard’s intentions were never clear, and surely never would be. A guttural, stony growl rumbled from within as she moved past the others, attempting to squeeze her way through the taut, claustrophobic byway.

Now, the confines felt too close, daring to strangle what life she’d been given. It was a feeling greatly unwonted, crag and grit scraping against either side of her thick, tousled jacket, muzzle therein creasing in a rather demoniac, unsavoury sneer. Get me the fuck out of here.

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