Revolution
It's a good night to kill a queen, alcohol hangs heavy in the air, and the dancers are engulfed within their revelry. The queen lays, in perfect peace within her grand tent. Or so she thinks, until a rugged hand tightens around her neck, forcing her into a fit of wet gasps. As you bore your eyes into hers you feel the glyph of Return tugging you back to a cliff overlooking the camp grounds, you let the glyph run its course and teleport to the rocky overhead. At your return the Feeders rocket...
Fantasy