Normal
0
false
false
false
EN-US
X-NONE
X-NONE
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0cm;
mso-para-margin-right:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:8.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0cm;
line-height:107%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}
Into the Underworld.
Note: Mission log recount of Stut’War “Long
Tooth”. Should I fall, please tell
this tale to my people. They must know of what I have seen, the feats and
challenges that we faced together, the threats that truly do exist below their
feet. Lurking, ever lurking.
The crisp crunch of armoured
feet on frost covered ground breaks the silence. The Subway system lays quiet as a tomb, which
for many a frozen corpse it is. Gruesomely
broken bodies of people, families lay strewn about the platforms. Refugees and prison guards alike resigned to
the same status in death.
Something, or perhaps
many somethings have feasted on the remains.
Organs and limbs consumed. The
layers of frost helping to disguise some of the gruesome imagery.
“Do you understand now,
why the Karbarren people, truly believes this location to be one of the circles
of Hell.” Long Tooth murmurs in a
hushed tone.
The group make their
way through the eerie setting. The
occasional misstep, a stumble on frozen ground, echoes painfully loud through
the empty passages. My heat vision, (the
sky people, the micronians call this thermographic) is near useless here. The Sorcerer
called Jones helps me by switching my magically imbued armour to infrared, the
group stumbles apon an Odeon Inorganic.
Imposing in size and position,
swathed in a sheen of ice, it stands immobile against the passage wall. Inactive? Clad only in our armour, coupled with
our meager choice of weapons, Xander instructs us to press forward. With visibility limited, I am loath to admit,
I taste fear. Strong and rank, my
ability to function as their guide diminishes.
Silent sentinels,
waiting for some unknown trigger or command perhaps? “Sleeping first giants!” Long Tooth declares. Fear and dread
tinging his words as he seeks to reconcile these monstrosities to stories and
fables of old.
“Curse the Gods! They
are everywhere, each turn we take reveals another one!” I may die here, my sole
trapped in this space between worlds.
Never to reach the hall of my ancestors.
The warriors I am with
are fearless? They press forward, and the warrior code compels me to follow,
though I am beginning to see how I might aid beings with such a grasp of
magic. The one called Tillman, carries a
device on his shoulder that houses the finger to death!
The Voice recording signal
from Captain cook grows stronger, louder, as we press forward. I catch them mention that the rubble and heavy
steel reinforcement within the passages is causing radio ghosting. As if this
task were not difficult enough!
What was that
noise? The groan of breaking ice?
Movement in the passageways behind us? I can not be the only one to have heard
it.
I mention this to
their leader, the Xander, who examines one of the frozen giants. The beasts single eye snaps open!!
Perhaps slow to wake, blinded
by its slumber, sheets if ice fracture. The impact of ice crashing to the
ground, assaults my ears after the prolonged silence. The monstrous beast, its eye flicking wildly,
lumbers forward.
We scramble for places
to hide, even the warriors. They are not
fools, choose the battles that you can.
Senses dulled, the
gods are with us for once, it hasn’t seen us. With care, we move away as the
beast lumbers in the opposite direction. By all the Gods, these beasts are huge!
A beam of light leaps
through the air, one of the giants has spotted me. The armour over my shoulder glows and spits
as the beam slices a gouge out of it. I
should be dead! How am still alive…?
“Signal originates
from below us, Sir”
“I confirm sir.”
I don’t follow their
exact phrasing; however it looks like we need to descend into the gaping hole
before us. Dark as Kraken ink, I can see
nothing.
There is movement in the passage behind us, the
giant is hunting. We do not have time to
ponder such things, we leap into the opening.