Talk:2018.10.04 - Death Metal
Prophetic Dream
In a sage brush, overcast background, a solitary black crow hops nervously from foot to foot onto an unmoving corpse, sun bleached and leathered, save the weather beaten male formal attire of Mexican origins. And as the solitary bird hops up towards the face of the once-man, four more crowds descend down from the dark skies and join it. Which only causes the crow to take flight, followed by the mind's eye, to the left.
Up, into the sky, we draw closer to the crow, close enough to see it's unnatural corvid eyes; smokey-green, human eyes. The bird lists away, the overcast clouds give a crackle of thunder, then it comes down again, landing on the body of a long dead desert hare. It caws with triumph, then pecks at the distended belly of its meal.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The weathered stomach opens, and a sea of white erupts. Not white. Fly larva, maggots. Wiggling for freedom, their sound like a sick sympathy as the torrent of them threatens to wash over the mind's eye. And as they get closer, they aren't normal maggots at all. Not eyes of black dots, but sickly green. And fangs meant for slurping up dead flesh have been replaced with a maw like a lamprey: a circle of long, needle-like teeth, beyond which, as the maggot rush carries over the view, reminds of a portal to hell. No; to a portal worse than hell.
If you feel like running this adventure for someone else (or just looking through what I wrote), you'll find my notes at this link: Adventure File. Feel free to help yourself.
