Quoted By:
Well shit, I mean… this guy’s <span class="mu-i">got</span> you! His hand’s probably the size of a kitchen and your iceberg is, well… an <span class="mu-i">iceberg.</span> No engines, no paddles… wait, maybe if Oti-
Nope, Oti’s levitating away. Welp, it’s about that time to get crushed, ri-
Physics has a <span class="mu-i">lot</span> to answer for. The construct’s hand connects with you for a brief moment before sending you crashing through the ice and into the, um… the <span class="mu-i">drink</span>.
It’s everything you dreaded and more. With your eyes more or less taking a break ever since you arrived, your other senses, especially taste and smell, are going into overtime. It’s great when you’re trying to keep up with Volka or dodge a giant sewer robot thing, but not so glamorous when you’re taking a header directly into a sea of <span class="mu-s">CRAP!</span>
You puke immediately, of course–that was never an option. A mixture of muddy, syrupy glop meets you face-first, and rather than immediately sink into it, you instead slowly dip below like one of those old-timey explorers falling into quicksand.
You had a few guesses about how you were gonna die, and quickshit definitely wasn’t on the top of the list… but just when you’re ready to throw in the proverbial towel, you feel another chill in the sewage not too far from you!
Another ice raft!
“Stop bobbing and <span class="mu-i">MOVE!</span>” Barks Oti as he sends another salvo of ice at the construct’s remaining eyes!
“Don’t worry, Ant! It washes out!” Adds Tzah-Tzie from above as she strums her instrument with renewed vigor! “I’ll omit this part in the ballad, don’t worry!”
Paddling through the filth like a mudskipper in a septic tank as the construct moves to slam you again, you try your damndest to focus on survival as you feel your hands heat up once again!
>Roll me 1d100-4 (+3 Spinner’s Song, +2 Ice in reach, -2 Dark, -7 SEWAAAAGEEE :C) to get to safety! Best of 3!
