It's a gory scene to be at the bottom, where the rocks settle and the beast sleeps. Few come out alive, the viscous scent of misery spawns with every ripple that passes over. Creatures with eyes of ghostly red peer through the bleakness as they search in feast of the feeble.
Searching out malnourished minds and bitter hearts. Pumping deceitful thoughts as the pale skin of the wretched whom have fallen to the beasts scream. Shrieking in agony to strike fear in those who have newly fallen. Creating a toxic echo that corrodes those who carry dense doubt.
Worming their tongues in the ears of their victims as the beast gnaws upon their feet. Weakening their balance, creating a limbless critter to emulate its voice. It seeds into the mind of the terrified, blending with the suffering they posses.
They cry out but few fight back. They become hollow shells that suffice as a bowl for the beast to place its meal; and with each meal. The beast grows and the victim becomes a mere …