[ Somewhere on Prospit, somewhere near you, something is lurking. Maybe it's making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Or maybe it's the sound of something large and heavy against the Prospitian architecture, something akin to the steps of giants.
Maybe, just maybe, you're hearing the feral sounds of eldritch beasts, their snarls and moans resonating with your very soul.
But then you turn around and you see a perfectly normal human male, fast asleep and with all the grace of a wounded antelope. He's actually maybe meandering about some corner of Prospit with the poise and finesse of a drunken fly. Or he's unceremoniously barreling into that wall, right there, and then that floor, ouch. Or if you're really unlucky he's snoring, or murmuring incoherent mumbles at you from around the corner.
Regardless, may your deity of choice help you. You're going to need it. ]
Donovan, somewhere in a Prospit near you
Or maybe it's the sound of something large and heavy against the Prospitian architecture, something akin to the steps of giants.
Maybe, just maybe, you're hearing the feral sounds of eldritch beasts, their snarls and moans resonating with your very soul.
But then you turn around and you see a perfectly normal human male, fast asleep and with all the grace of a wounded antelope. He's actually maybe meandering about some corner of Prospit with the poise and finesse of a drunken fly. Or he's unceremoniously barreling into that wall, right there, and then that floor, ouch. Or if you're really unlucky he's snoring, or murmuring incoherent mumbles at you from around the corner.
Regardless, may your deity of choice help you. You're going to need it. ]