Session Preface
As each of you stands in the doorway, the room before you has maintained the oil painting texture you observed from beyond the portal. The walls are smeared with meticulously detailed flecks of blues and greys. Dark ink black shadows cast across the stone floor as you step forward, the colors shifting to lighter hues behind them. You look to your hands and witness a similar effect. As you move, unseen brushes depict the subtle twitches of muscles and spacial changes to reflect the new reality you create.
As you take in this beautiful and seemingly impossible perception, of the world being painted around you as you shape the subject yourself, you realize no is no such time for these philosophical musings. For you are not safe, nor are you alone.
Crashing towards you with an unquenchable will is a massive disfigured cloud giant. The monstrosity towers over you in this lofted ceiling chamber. Woven in and out of its skin, like the needlework of a novice, veins and tentacles intertwine in an unsettling bond. The sagging and decrypted grey skin, moving towards you in this strange world of painted perception, appears almost like waves cresting and falling out of sync with one another. The creature's arms outstretch towards you, tentacles extending beyond the massive morningstar in one hand and purple crackling energy in another. If this were not enough, the facial features of this unsightly giant are replaced with a demented single eye twisting and convulsing in panicked pulses. It seems to find you for a moment, in which malice and curiosity and terror all blink in and out of its expression manically. The tentacles swirling around its arms and eyes flail with razor sharp edges cutting the air, each swipe being depicted in the ever-changing painted reality with swirls of color and darkness behind them. As the creature continues rushing towards you, the desperate squirming from underneath its bloodied and rusted armor finally breaks through and another set of tentacles appear, ripping through metal and flesh alike, reaching out towards you sinisterly.
In a strangely harmonic voice echoing with the grunts of a giant and the screech of something much more sinister, you hear the words swirl around you and within your mind:
TANGLED IN TENTACLES, THE TRUTH A TWISTED TETHER
DEVOTED IN DESTRUCTION AND FETTERED IN FATAL FEATHERS
FALLING OUT OF FOCUS FOR FEAR OF FAILURE FOUND
FOR FREEDOM IS FICKLE BUT FAR BETTER TO BE BOUND
BY CALL AND CRY OF THE CREATOR'S CURSED CROWN
WITNESSED BY THE WATCHER, WHOSE WILL SHALL BE UNWOUND?
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