LOW THRUMMING BEAT IN THE DARK | Joining

[Luciferr]

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This is not your grave,
but you are welcome in it

Its late dusk and the sunset paints the settling sands a blood washed red as hush starts to fall in time for the oncoming blanket of night.

An auspicious sight perhaps, what one might consider an omen.

Save that the members here were likely used to such spectacle and thus did not spare much thought to it as they went about their business.

This lack of observance and the usual daily grind weighing everyone’s thoughts and gazes away is likely how the stranger got into their lands undetected - though they made no show of hiding themselves, for this was not their purpose.

A misshapen shadow of twisted proportions kissed the sands below silent yet heavy treads and one might think how such a being could be so quiet - and yet it was.

The silence of what crested the dunes was not the most startling trait.

It was perhaps the thing entire.

If one could put into words what one could describe it as, they would find trouble for the English language didn’t seem built to put a name to such a monstrosity - it resembled many things yes but it was significantly not

And it made its way steadily towards the jungle - where it’s sickly darkgreen-red-burnt-Black hue that seemed to ripple nauseatingly under the setting sun like its own flesh was a warped, cracked gemstone made from a rotting warped lava flow would largely blend unnoticed - if nobody stopped its progress that is.

Some might have wondered how it knew where it went - for the thing did not seem to have eyes but gaping black abysses that felt nauseating to look at - and too many mouths for comfort.

It’s strange gait carried it onward, unheeded as it made its slow leisurely progress towards the pyramids.

Perhaps the only comfort was that it didn’t seem inclined to attack in its doggedly persistent path, skeletal tail waving slowly behind it.

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TAGS - ??? [9FT MYTH] - PITT - ART IS MINE

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[deimos]

A shadow. One that moved past twisted and burnt trees, making it's own path, delving deep into Pittian territory. And to the jaguar, one that blended well with it's own shadows, making use of his mostly darkened pelt, recognized the strange shape among the familiar blasted trees. An outsider, at least. Scented strangely, not wearing the tarried smell of the other groups. Piers, of course, didn't doubt that the creature knew that he was trailing it. He gathered himself, for a long moment, before picking up his pace to be at least neck-in-neck; in a sense.

Piers lifted his muzzle, speaking as his eyes traced the strange shape of the outsider's body. It was.. strange. Gaunt, even, skin-crawling. But from what Piers has seen, between the history books in Tanglewood, and the people of the Pitt itself, it wasn't anything to fear at sight. Action would be the judge of where his fears lay. "Who are you? Why are you in the Pitt?" Piers, at least, knew better then to jump in front of this monstrosity.

It would trample him in his tracks.

"SPEECH"

[Luciferr]

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This is not your grave,
but you are welcome in it

The pace of the behemoth slows to not outmatch the burgundy shadow they have gained and long known watching them - less of courtesy more simply that it is practical and prudent to match pace so that words are easier to exchange.

There is a brief feeling of satisfaction at not being attacked outright, fights are so bothersome when he had not come to seek one.

There is no clear sign as they continue, but perhaps the jaguar might feel a sudden intensity to know the beast was indeed now watching him for all it lacked the eyes to tell - the intruder remained silent for a brief few moments, assessing perhaps before the head of the thing (for all that it looked like someone had violently rammed two heads together and arranged them into one) turned to the jaguar.

The top maw gasped open, revealing rows upon rows of teeth and barely glimpsed in the shadows under the trees where the hole of the throat should be was something akin to a secondary mouth, teeth grinding as a voice deep and somber spoke

“I name myself Silentgrave, stranger” a rasp as it seemed to ponder “though I lack a grave to house me” some flicker of dark amusement at the wording choice, the creature now named Silentgrave rumbled, a low gurgling

“I came to seek one here”

As much an admission of intent to join as one could perhaps gain from the oddity - a grave to call home after it was routed from its last, bothersome as the ousting had been, it was past now and the culprits were, gone, to say politely.

The jaws of Silent clacked closed before they spoke “if allowed” it amended to its prior statement, slowing as they neared closer in.

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TAGS - ??? [9FT MYTH] - PITT - ART IS MINE

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[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

Faerie, long-living and indifferent to the passage of time, saw many wonders in their lives -- Gael rarely found sights now, that surprised or struck awe into his soul.  The grand shadow standing before Piers brought a prickling unease he had forgotten; if only for a moment.  When the creature spoke, revealing passive intention, the Vicar felt his muscles loosen.

It appeared Silentgrave -- a peculiar name -- simply sought a home.  Calmly, the vulpine stepped forward into the dying light, hazel eyes glinting curiously as he inclined his head towards the strange being.

"You are allowed," came his polite confirmation. "My name is Gael Ó Broin -- Vicar, or second in-command here.  This is Piers.  We do not mind welcoming you into the Pitt, Silentgrave."

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / vicar / lamby

[Luciferr]

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This is not your grave,
but you are welcome in it

Another voice joins the chorus, red fox, Gael, second in command comes the important information from assessment and what is spoken.

Silent is pleased, if only for the speed at which this has gone - even despite his appearance, there is less screaming this time around at least.

Not that they would have minded the horror. It is what it is.

The mouths of knives click and scrape as it ruminates on speech before they jerkily nod - the bulging spine from its neck cracking grotesquely as they do

”then we make our grave here” is the rumbling response as the edge clears and the group nears the pyramids.

[short oof]

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TAGS - ??? [9FT MYTH] - PITT - ART IS MINE

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[Atticus Roux]

Being within Tanglewood led him to encounter only a few normal creatures. Sure, Caustic breathed smoke and Aurum had wings, but no one compared to the monstrosity of Silentgrave. Upon reaching his yellow eyes, the kitten paused. His gaze looked the strange figure up and down, observing their jagged spikes and crooked teeth with interest. Their split jaw into two agape mouths caused a chill to run down his spine... but he couldn't stop staring. Their set of forelimbs grasped his eye. Not to mention the many tendrils that lined their body. Needless to say, he was both horrified and impressed.

Approaching closer, the obscenely tall stranger loomed over him. He could almost feel their dark gaze lurking across his being and a wave on unease rushed through him. Nevertheless, the boy persisted. While they may seem strange and otherworldly, surely they would prove to be different. Even so, their last comment deemed to prove his theory wrong. It wasn't every day when someone proclaimed they were 'making their grave.' "Okay..." he muttered. His gaze shifted to the side, offering Gael a cautious gaze.

Moving back to Silentgrave, the smaller figure stared upwards. "Name's Atticus," came his confident proclamation. "Welcome to Tang- The Pitt."