One moment the sky was split between our suspended tension and the distant clash of Legions, and in the next, the inward spiral above our heads was vomiting them out—dozens, then hundreds, small black-furred bodies with too many teeth and not enough eyes, tumbling from the opening in the air and landing on anything beneath them without discrimination.
They swarmed over Legion fighters, over each other, over the rubble of what used to be the field's perimeter markers.
Claws and wet barking sounds filled what had once been a battlefield and was now simply chaos.
This was definitely familiar.
The inverted whirlpool, the flooding pour of identical small bodies, the indiscriminate aggression the moment they hit the ground.
It was the Wheel-Forged District all over again, down to the rhyme and reason!
Then again, those flying imps were drastically different than the one I met in Wheel-Forged District
