RAGNAR
Mage Sight: Peripheral
Active Spells: Exceptional Luck
Conditions/Tilts: Inspired, Steadfast, Horrid Whispers (-1 to all rolls), Trapped (Speed 0)
Health: BOOOOOOO I WP: 3/4 I Mana: 9/10 I Wisdom: 7
Beats: 0/5 I Arcane Beats: 2/5
Experiences: 1 I Arcane Experiences: 1
Ok, this is whole new levels of "unpleasant," Ragnar thinks to himself. It's like the old recurring nightmare he used to have as a child, trying to run away from some monster, but his body- he had been quite plump when he was young- betraying him, never being able to run fast enough, or even move at all. Except he knows it's not a nightmare, because the others make their way up the stairs, and Phoenix conjures a gust of wind- well, probably raw force, but the effect feels the same, so yeah, wind- to disperse the spirits. Active Spells: Exceptional Luck
Conditions/Tilts: Inspired, Steadfast, Horrid Whispers (-1 to all rolls), Trapped (Speed 0)
Health: BOOOOOOO I WP: 3/4 I Mana: 9/10 I Wisdom: 7
Beats: 0/5 I Arcane Beats: 2/5
Experiences: 1 I Arcane Experiences: 1
"Oh thank God! You guys! We. Really need. To stop. Meeting. Like this!" He's starting to pant from the exertion, feeling like he has not choice but to keep running. Yeah, yeah, leave it to the Acanthus to invoke Alice, he thinks. "Tried. To cast. A Space. Spell. These damn. Whispers. Screwed. Me up!" They never stop, the whispers. It almost feels like invisible people are circling him, breathing mockery and malice into his ears, each word too garbled, too high- or low-pitched, too soft or loud, to make out. But he knows the things speaking to him are no friends of his. He's read about some people who experience psychotic episodes having experiences like this, but this is far worse, because at least those people- at least, he hopes this is the case- are "only" imagining them. He knows that whatever this is, it's very, very real. "I think. I can. Fix this..."
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