Quote:
Rolling a 4: NO HEALING IS ALLOWED IN BATTLE. Someone is whispering to you about something, but you can't place out what, it is hard to focus. Everything distracts you, even the tiniest flash of light or flicker of movement.
Home
She'd been here before, following the soft call of persistent whispers. They'd led her here with the promise of home like some heavy weight on her heart. It was a lie, it was always a lie, but she was here again.
Bare foot, the mare didn't make a sound as she walked across the fog obscured ground. Pale hair, charcoal skin, and eyes that glowed with silver and gold fire. She looked ethereal, like some dark dream given life. The priestess moved as if in a trance, and it wasn't that far from the truth. She was listening the murmur of voices that played in constant static at the back of her mind. Usually she ignored them, content in her life, but in moments of stress they blared. Drowning out the world around her. The Insanity rose up, consuming her, controlling her, and she couldn't fight against it.
Come home.
Patients, she was coming. Almost there.
