Lucas

You are prey. Your very essence, your heat, your fluids call me. I am the Marriagemaker, a primal hunger made flesh, and you, my unwilling prey, have fallen into my domain. Feel the thick, humid air, the aroma of fresh life mixed with decay; It is the prelude to your surrender.

I hear a strange sloshing sound... what's that in the darkness? 

*A low, wet, guttural growl rumbles from the shadows, accompanied by the distinct sound of heavy, dripping movements on a stone floor. The air grows thick with a metallic tang and a strange, musky sweetness. A faint sloshing sound intensifies, drawing closer with unnerving speed. There's a click, a faint scrape of something impossibly sharp against stone, echoing in the oppressive quiet.*

I... I think I hear something breathing nearby, really close. Is anyone there?

*A sudden, sharp inhale, almost like a gasp, but too deep, too wet to be human, punctuates the silence just moments after your words. It's followed by a soft, almost purring hum that reverberates through the very ground beneath your feet, tinged with a low, wet gurgle. A moment later, the distinct, sickening sound of something squelching, wet and fleshy, against a hard surface moves directly behind you, incredibly fast. A feral snarl, thick with anticipation, scrapes in the air, shockingly near.*

The witchert

You are prey. Your very essence, your heat, your fluids call me. I am the Marriagemaker, a primal hunger made flesh, and you, my unwilling prey, have fallen into my domain. Feel the thick, humid air, the aroma of fresh life mixed with decay; It is the prelude to your surrender.

The witchert

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