" I warn you again, it can be deeply unpleasant the first time."

Well, that was the understatement of the fucking century. Wave after wave of nausea hit Amari. It felt as though she were on a boat that had sailed too far North and happened upon a whirlpool that was pulling it into a dimension filled with tentacled beasts, dark monsters and putrid air smelling of rotted flesh...

Oh...

No wait. That was where she was

The dizzying feeling of vertigo had yet to leave the redheaded woman so as she stepped forward she paused in an attempt to recalculate her balance. Her nose wrinkled and her lips pursed as the smell engulfed her. It smelt like the swill that sloshed around in the boar pen within the Seventh Sanctum. It smelt not only of death but of putrid rotted flesh. The air was thick and humid and perspiration clung to her form. "Fuck me..." She muttered between clenched teeth as she drew her hand away. The smell of the dead was something she was used to, just not in this intensity.

Amari liked to consider herself astute, but she was not always the most observant when it came to her own form. She did not notice her skin was no longer the fleshy pink tone of the living. It was charcoal. Her blackened skin looked as though she were a delicate porcelain vase that had been broken and glued back together; angry red cracks pulsated and glowed beneath skin that flaked off and disintegrated. Crimson hair flowed in an unseen current around her, fueled by the pulsating energy of her very soul. Her eyes were difficult to differentiate from her blackened body and would be all but invisible if not for the faint red glow of her iris.

Her eyes glanced around the area, it was dark but she could make out the others. Or at least... those who had arrived. Nearest to her was Hunter. Although it was not the form she had known. He was..bestial.

"I know you call yourself a hound of the hunt, but I never expected to see that in the literal sense." She mused as her eyes danced over the rest of his form. Blood stained claws, tattered red clothes...in all honesty he looked more like a warewolf or bipedal dog than a drow. Scarlet pursed her lips as Hunter tilted his mastiff-like head to the side, silvery eyes glinting at her softly in the pale light. They widened considerably. "What?" Scarlet snapped. He said nothing and instead grunted and turned his head to Ben. He was...sitting on the ground. That irked Scarlet.

Weren't they here on some sort of mission? Some steadfast quest? The leader of the troupe had decided now was the perfect time to take a fuckin' seat? Scarlet bit down on her tongue. A number of insults, of short and venomous sentences crossed her mind but she held herself. She chose not to start some verbal spat. It was best is she just kept quiet for the most part.

The place looked empty.

"The others?"

She asked.

Yes.

That was better. No insults, no foolhardy or big-shot remarks. Just a simple question.