North-west Allir Reach, along the Sayve River
The tranquil silence of the riverbank was disrupted as a deer hopped through the undergrowth, causing birds to take flight in a flutter of wings and leaves. The deer continued down to the waters edge lowered its head to the surface and began to drink.
Out on the water, a raft with a white, slightly tattered sail bobbed past. Three children were aboard holding makeshift fishing rods, right now they seemed more interested with mock sword-fighting than fishing though. They jumped back and forth on the uneven plants and tree branches and made up their vessel, parrying, poking and prodding each other with their blunt fishing rods.
On the opposing bank, the trees swayed, however there was little wind. The children paid it no mind but the deer lifted its head, its ears twitching and facing the disturbance. The trees bent and parted as if something were pushing through them but not toppling them. Their dense foliage hid from sight whatever was causing the commotion as it slowly moved towards the river. One by one the children stopped their game and watched as the trees bend and swayed, leaves rusting loudly as if disturbed by a great gale.
All at once they stopped moving, as a torrent of water, or what looked like water, gushed out from the soft sloping hill and joined the river, great volumes of it, like a flood that ran slowly. It didn't seem to disturb the water itself but flowed into and almost under it, and then...silence. The torrent ended and the river and trees returned to normal.
The children shrugged, their game restarting as one of them smacked the other on the back of the neck.
---
The village of Highvalley, nearby
The villagers first noticed something was wrong when the three boys failed to return from their fishing adventure. They were due back after midday, the sun now hung low in the sky, just above the small hill near the town, that sat between it and the river. The second sign was the darkening of the sky, or rather the great shadow that was cast across the town. Its inhabitants peered up at the hill, hands shielding their eyes from the glare. The hill was there, where it should be, however it was moving, writing, undulating. Steadily it began to grow and change shape, instead of a relaxed hill it grew into a semi-sphere as large as a wagon fully laden with hay, the sun shining through it with a dull, ruddy light, casting a green sickly haze over the village.
People stared in horror and wonder as the object wobbled on the hill, before with horrifying speed it began to move on the village. People began to scream, running away form it, tripping over wagons and hay bails as the thing approached. As it got closer, the sounds of three young voices could be heard, screaming and wailing in terror. On the surface of the giant, slimy mass the shapes of the three boys could be made out, half submerged in the thick viscous slime of the monster that now bore down on the village. One by one they were sucked under the surface, their outlines still visible but no longer making any sound.
Some brave farmers, and the odd fighting man gathered at the town square, pitchforks, bows and arrows gripped in their hands. One threw a spear which lodged itself in the surface of the blob, into to be sucked fully inside and launched back out with equal speed, impaling the man who threw it. The rest of the townsfolk ran for their lives, some on horses, others on wagons. A single rider galloped away with haste, hoping to get help from any who could challenge the slime.
The tranquil silence of the riverbank was disrupted as a deer hopped through the undergrowth, causing birds to take flight in a flutter of wings and leaves. The deer continued down to the waters edge lowered its head to the surface and began to drink.
Out on the water, a raft with a white, slightly tattered sail bobbed past. Three children were aboard holding makeshift fishing rods, right now they seemed more interested with mock sword-fighting than fishing though. They jumped back and forth on the uneven plants and tree branches and made up their vessel, parrying, poking and prodding each other with their blunt fishing rods.
On the opposing bank, the trees swayed, however there was little wind. The children paid it no mind but the deer lifted its head, its ears twitching and facing the disturbance. The trees bent and parted as if something were pushing through them but not toppling them. Their dense foliage hid from sight whatever was causing the commotion as it slowly moved towards the river. One by one the children stopped their game and watched as the trees bend and swayed, leaves rusting loudly as if disturbed by a great gale.
All at once they stopped moving, as a torrent of water, or what looked like water, gushed out from the soft sloping hill and joined the river, great volumes of it, like a flood that ran slowly. It didn't seem to disturb the water itself but flowed into and almost under it, and then...silence. The torrent ended and the river and trees returned to normal.
The children shrugged, their game restarting as one of them smacked the other on the back of the neck.
---
The village of Highvalley, nearby
The villagers first noticed something was wrong when the three boys failed to return from their fishing adventure. They were due back after midday, the sun now hung low in the sky, just above the small hill near the town, that sat between it and the river. The second sign was the darkening of the sky, or rather the great shadow that was cast across the town. Its inhabitants peered up at the hill, hands shielding their eyes from the glare. The hill was there, where it should be, however it was moving, writing, undulating. Steadily it began to grow and change shape, instead of a relaxed hill it grew into a semi-sphere as large as a wagon fully laden with hay, the sun shining through it with a dull, ruddy light, casting a green sickly haze over the village.
People stared in horror and wonder as the object wobbled on the hill, before with horrifying speed it began to move on the village. People began to scream, running away form it, tripping over wagons and hay bails as the thing approached. As it got closer, the sounds of three young voices could be heard, screaming and wailing in terror. On the surface of the giant, slimy mass the shapes of the three boys could be made out, half submerged in the thick viscous slime of the monster that now bore down on the village. One by one they were sucked under the surface, their outlines still visible but no longer making any sound.
Some brave farmers, and the odd fighting man gathered at the town square, pitchforks, bows and arrows gripped in their hands. One threw a spear which lodged itself in the surface of the blob, into to be sucked fully inside and launched back out with equal speed, impaling the man who threw it. The rest of the townsfolk ran for their lives, some on horses, others on wagons. A single rider galloped away with haste, hoping to get help from any who could challenge the slime.
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