>>5444839 <span class="mu-g">Magnus</span>2 hexes claimed.
Your people put their new knowledge to work quickly, their minds buzzing with an excitement you can feel even from hundreds of meters overhead as they drill away at rocks and cut away at trees to test their freshly shaped implements. You have to pull your attention away, however, as a possible threat rears its ugly pointed head.
You stare balefully down at the former ocean predator and its savage, bellowed challenge. You will not entertain its lust for blood and viscera, especially with your people so close at hand. You pin its primitive mind with a thought, watching with rapt amusement as it pounds at its own head in frustration and confusion, unable to shut out your piercing, intrusive assault on its psyche. Disorientation inflicted on Nifo Toto.
>>5445403 <span class="mu-g">The All Warmth</span>The Shale begin speaking amongst themselves in a ponderous, gravelly tongue, imitating the rumbling, tectonic speech of their god during his confrontation with the shark-beast. Language developed.
Not long after, they find reason to preserve their spoken word, so that it will not be lost to time. With their flaming breath they burn great, complex runes into their bodies, tales told on rocky flesh and granite bone. Writing developed.
You take the assault of the shark deity in stoic, stony silent, letting out nary a sound as molten ichor spills forth from the great gash his teeth inflict on your body. The wound will mend, in time. The earth endures.
>>5445563 <span class="mu-g">Nifo Toto</span>Auvau swim in great shivers in the massive lake that composes their new home. The constant heat takes some getting used to, but most adapt in time, some even coming to enjoy the bubbling warmth of these new waters which keep the eternal winter of this land at bay. Loto Mu constructed.
Those few who are dissatisfied with the warm water find their other desires sated, as the newly grown Bloody Barlow transforms the snowy tundras around Loto Mu into an orgy of blood and violence. Maddened, trumpeting Woradine crash into and gore one another in great herds as delighted Auvau join in on the savage fun, heedless of the occasional casualty as even their endless lust for blood is filled by the red-painted snowfields. Stain the Barlow developed.
Unfortunately, you’re unable to join in on the fun you’ve created. You roar in pain, beating your fists against your head as wave after wave of strange, psychic pressure pulses through your skull courtesy of the ominous silver eye hovering head. Your thoughts are becoming hazy, flowing like thick treacle as you struggle to recall where you are, and why you’re here. Something about…blood…? Disorientation inflicted. Until the end of the turn your Agility is reduced by 3, and all attack rolls will suffer a -2 to their result.
