Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
[MENTION=40413]GlassEye[/MENTION] [MENTION=51271]Voda Vosa[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=2820]Fenris[/MENTION] [MENTION=8058]Queenie[/MENTION]
Well, I got motivated to write again and so am listening to Michael Hoenig’s Baldur’s Gate soundtracks while I finish this part 1 of 2 portion of the ending out. Music helps. Oh, and I had three different possible adventure paths in mind depending on the party’s actions. This one was in case you lost a battle or were otherwise captured. It allowed me to up the danger in places by giving you one way out should the dice not be in your favor…
----
The realization of their predicament and the call to retreat came much too late. The small party of heroes showed that they were a force to be reckoned with in a deadly serious manner, as their explosive fireballs slew and badly injured the yuan-ti forces. But those same yuan-ti that survived lobbed their own grenades back amongst the party. It was the badly wounded Arkos who had fallen after that as he used his body to shield the Myconid podling. To leave their comrade behind was unthinkable, so Nerin carried Arkos onto his back while the badly wounded comrades continued a defensive attack.
Who was the next to go down? Who was the last? In the grand scheme it didn’t matter, for no manner of maneuvering would have saved the adventurers. There was the Betrayer above them in his armed, flying platform, seeing all and directing sorties from both inside the ziggurat and outside in the thick immediate jungles while dropping fireballs of his own. The heroes fought valiantly, but ultimately succumbed first to great pain, then the welcoming black gloom of troubled sleep.
In the darkness each hero continued to fall into a weightless void, alone in the dark for ages immeasurable. And within that eternal darkness came a yearning for some sort of contact, a touch of another voice to verify that the hero still existed and was not in some horrid limbo. That yearning was punctuated by strange moments where could be felt a clammy arm, or overly large black eyes staring forth from breathing masks and strangely-shaped heads. Then darkness again, but now a voice spoke into the mind of the hero. No, not a voice, but pure thought making contact and forming sentences more through impressions than actually words. And as the hero focused on that alien mind the hero found limbo recede slightly and he/she standing on an odd, rocky world with a chill breeze, and a night sky illuminated by two large purple moons, a smaller red one, and starry constellation the likes had never been imagined by man. A strange tune could be barely heard, like the constant humming of a million voices joined in a shared lullaby.
“Yes, you are alone. You were always alone. Your sad people could never help but be alone, lacking the ability to share their minds across endless space. And so you are dangerous, and will always be dangerous until you are made to join the Song. As it is you can barely perceive it, even with the help of others.”
The hero had many questions, but focused on one. Who was this invasive mind?
“You still perceive in the singular. You do not understand. Cannot understand. But to your question, does it matter who we are? We have much wisdom to show you, if you are ready.”
The hero grew angry. The hero remembered being attacked, hurt and crawling near comrades who called out for help. The hero wanted to know where they were and if they survived.
“Stubborn and strong. This is surprising. They keep surprising. But they must learn to accept us, or else the void…”
And the hero fell once more, into timeless space and darkness until the need for contact again became almost unbearable. The hero almost begged the voice and Song to return; to confirm existence and sanity. But another part refused to give in, and decided that it was better to be forever alone than give in to this sadistic mind that tormented and demanded obedience.
“No, not alone,” a friendlier, familiar voice said. “I’m here. I was never alone, and neither were you. We were always together.”
The hero focused on the voice, and his/her feet found purchase again on rocky earth and alien sky, with the Song lower and even less indiscernible in the background. It was Lealani who smiled at each of her companions, while they grinned back as they saw each other in turn, well and alive. “I heard you calling out and I found you. It was easy once I put my mind to it. ”
“So it was,” Sarpot agreed. “This turn of events feels to me like some sort of Sathar trick. But where are we now? This doesn’t seem like the SS Warden.”
“No, I doubt it is. Something tells me this is a Sathar world,” Mellisande added. “Look at the terrain and weird plants.”
“And the stars and the moon,” Nerin adds. “They are strange, but beautiful. And I bet if we study those stars long enough we can build a reasonable three-dimensional stellar chart. In fact, I bet I could pinpoint where this world is just by studying the sky. I don’t know why, but I feel I understand how to travel the stars and that given a ship, I could find my way somewhere close to here, but with the number of worlds in an area it would still be hard to determine the exact planet.”
Arkos then piped in. “No it wouldn’t be. This world has distinct fauna. If I was to study them some more and the atmosphere, I could determine their gaseous output and take a guess at the color the planet would have from space. Working together, we could easily determine where this is, and if it is the Sathar homeworld we…”
stop!
The word was like a small hammer blow to the brain, causing the heroes to shudder. They turned and noticed the presence of three odd humanoids wearing breathing apparatuses. “Stop. You surprise us once again, but this knowledge is not meant for you. Forget it and return to your rest. You have exhausted both your minds and bodies in this pursuit and further exertions may prove harmful.”
The party felt a sudden wave of exhaustion, but Nerin ignored the feeling and pressed on. “So we are on a Sathar world. Why should you care if we look to the sky? We cannot leave without a ship, and so our knowledge is useless.”
The Sathar stopped communicating, as if unsure how to proceed. It was Lealani who made the realization and fought the suggestion to rest in her anger. “Because we are not on a Sathar world, are we? This is all in our minds, a projection of what this world looked like. A memory perhaps, or a shared vision in your telepathic network. This is how you indoctrinate humans that came before.”
Sarpot cut in next, his belligerence shattering the remnants of the sleep suggestion as he took several mental steps in this unreality to shout into the faces of his Sathar captives, “If you can show worlds, I want to see my home next. Show me Earth! Show me what you have down to my home!”
The trio shifted uneasily, and in Sarpot’s mind he could sense their fear. Unconsciously, because of his demand, they thought of Earth, and the heroes saw the landscape melt and shift to something new. A beautiful blue sky and green fields tended by hard-working, but dirty and glassy-eyed fellow humans. It was a vision of Earth. Sarpot’s first thought was the stunning beauty of the land around him, but a second more devious thought struck him. “So the Sathar cannot handle anger well in their telepathic connections. This is good to know, and so very useful.”
“Earth,” Arkos said next, as stunned as the rest of his companions. “Yes, the flora seems right, as does the sky. But there is something wrong with the people.”
Lealani answered, “Brainwashed perhaps. Or more likely under mental control, but I cannot fathom how they could control a large population constantly like this. They do not see us, but it is good to know that they are alive. I keep thinking that this might not be a memory of the Sathar, after all. I think we are seeing through the eyes of other Sathars through their telepathic link.”
Nerin mused, “But they are alive, and it might be possible to break the link if we can get to Earth. I just need to get to a ship. The SS Warden itself perhaps, or some other craft. With a ship at my controls I can get us there and we can save them. We can save all of enslaved humanity.”
Mellisande chirped, “But if we are in the network, can’t we just do it from inside. The Sathar have somehow linked minds to their Song, which in turn allows them to make suggestions or create outright control. All we have to do is alter the Song so it doesn’t touch some humans. Like Lealani said, once you visualize it, it becomes easy.” And Mellisande reached out and pointed to a dozen of the field workers, who suddenly threw off their glassy-eyed stares and looked around in confusion as if seeing the world around them for the first time.
Stop!
The minds of the three Sathar hit the heroes again, causing the vision to swim once more. Now they were no longer on Earth, but floating in a strange, infinite void filled with stars.
“Will you stop doing that,” Sarpot shouted back angrily, his own mental attack stunning the trio for a brief moment. The Song was becoming easier to manipulate.
The Sathar’s fear was thick. “We pleaded for you to stop, demanded even, yet you persist. We do not know how you are doing this, but you have done damage. Not irreparable damage, but damage nonetheless. Now we threaten. Your bodies are still on the Warden, under our care. Though your minds are powerful in this plane of existence, they will still die if your bodies were eliminated. If you do not immediately sever yourselves from the Song and to the connection you share with one another, we will terminate you. We will now have other Sathar in the Song join with us to make a stronger suggestion for you to rest.”
And suddenly the Song grew in pitch and fever as the stars grew brighter and other Sathar from across space added their own will to the three in front of the party. A beautiful orchestra punctuated by flashes from a stellar lightshow, drowning out almost all thought with its lullaby.
“The Song,” Mellisande said in wonder. She could no longer sense anything else but the Song, not even the nearby Sathar or her companions. Yet she would not give into the suggestion of sleep, either. The Song was too interesting a thing to study. “At first it’s beautiful, but then you realize that there is something sadly missing. It’s like finding out that an entire section of an orchestra is missing. The Song isn’t a complete song. It’s a tragic fragment. A shattered sliver of what once was something much larger and more beautiful; leaving emptiness. It can never be restored no matter how the Sathar desperately try, but with the combined thoughts of so many Sathar joined with us, an imperfect memory of it can be heard.” And suddenly the melody changed, and the party understood what she meant by an incomplete orchestra as suddenly there were new sounds.
And across regions of Sathar space there was a stunned, mournful pause as countless minds listened and shrieked in mental anguish over the memory of what was lost...
STOP!
The heroes found themselves in their bodies once more, laying under medical equipment on cold, metal slabs. They were still armed and equipped, for they were no longer considered a threat once under the care of the three Sathar that writhed painfully in front of them. The mental link somehow remained enough for the heroes to understand their basic thoughts. They are not human! What are they! Too dangerous to ignore! Too dangerous to let live! Kill them! Kill them!
The Sathar on the left was the first to recover, and he reached for a dangerous rod that Lealani instantly recognized as a Rod of Distintegration. One touch would likely outright destroy any of her companions. She quickly cast a magic missile to stun it, but it barely held onto life as it tried to raise the rod again. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but then realized that her companions still shared the mental rapport even now that they had been forcibly ejected from the Song.
“Don’t worry, I got this,” Nerin said to her and the other heroes through his own mentally projected words, and in an instant he jumped forward, drew his blade, and severed the arm of the stunned Sathar before it could raise its weapon. It fell, bleeding out from multiple wounds.
Sarpot did not turn to see how his companions were doing. In his mind, he could see their success through the telepathic link. “I got the one on the right. Mellisande and Arkos, take the center.” Sarpot fatally blasted his target, while Mellisande used her magic to stun the last of the trio. Arkos struck it next, just below the jugular, killing it.
The party was victorious, but shared a feeling of stunned emotion through their telepathic link. Arkos said, “It seems the Sathar woke something in us. There are some implications here that I am beginning to understand. Give me a moment to piece it together.”
“Sure, but let me say that I’m not too keen on sharing thoughts with Sarpot. He has no appreciation for the arts,” Mellisande said with a half-smile.
“Well, you actually seem to have to focus mentally to be able to use our new link, and I can also focus on leaving it I’ve just found. I seem to have a talent for this and think I can teach you some tricks,” Lealani suggested.
“Later,” Nerin answered. “Right now let’s get out of here. I just looked out the door to this medical facility and found a large lift that looks to be in the center of this structure. I’ve a feeling, or perhaps a woken memory, that it goes up to GAIA.”
Sarpot smiled and said, “Good! Maybe we can get some answers. Let’s go before any more of these things show up.”
The heroes took the lift, realizing as they climbed that they were in a vertical tube that lay in the center of the Life Tree which provided sustenance to the land below. As they rode up, they saw the front of the ziggurat was the scene of a recent battle. Many yuan-ti, wolfmen, and Myconids lay dead on the field, and golems broken and destroyed. Although the losses were large on both sides, it was clear it was Myconid which was wiped out. Lealani touched Arkos’ shoulder and said, “They came to save us. Arkos, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Arkos could not turn his head away from the sight and stood in bitter silence. He felt the pod he carried shudder in despair through his new psychic link. Soon it would become Myconid. Perhaps the only Myconid left. ”I’ll protect you. Soon I will find a place for you,” he promised as he patted his new companion. The pod settled down, reassured, and Arkos heard its reply. ”My place is with Father. Father cares. Father protects.”
The lift finally stopped at its destination, and the doors opened into a cool, gray, perfectly formed passage made entirely of steel. In front of them was a huge door with the lettering ‘G.A.I.A’. “Well, that’s great but how do we get in,” Sarpot asked.
Suddenly a beam shot forth from a glass panel in the center of the door. “I recognize the following ranking members of the SS Warden staff: Captain Nara Singhe, Lieutenant Commander Kodar Kisharm, Major Marshall Potter, Captain Marcus Leazan, Anya Loki, Trevor Sander, Yuki Shotenboc, Jacques d'Arc, Melissa Athens, Doctor Sarah Granmerest. But I sense only five standing entities.” Arkos snorted, as if those words confirmed something he was pondering. The entity continued, “I am confused, but will follow my directives. Welcome, senior staff of the SS Warden. Please enter.” And with that, the great door lifted, releasing dust and stale air into the passageway.
Arkos was the first to walk in, muttering in disgust, “We’re just children. Or adults that never got to be children.”
---
To be concluded…
Well, I got motivated to write again and so am listening to Michael Hoenig’s Baldur’s Gate soundtracks while I finish this part 1 of 2 portion of the ending out. Music helps. Oh, and I had three different possible adventure paths in mind depending on the party’s actions. This one was in case you lost a battle or were otherwise captured. It allowed me to up the danger in places by giving you one way out should the dice not be in your favor…
----
The realization of their predicament and the call to retreat came much too late. The small party of heroes showed that they were a force to be reckoned with in a deadly serious manner, as their explosive fireballs slew and badly injured the yuan-ti forces. But those same yuan-ti that survived lobbed their own grenades back amongst the party. It was the badly wounded Arkos who had fallen after that as he used his body to shield the Myconid podling. To leave their comrade behind was unthinkable, so Nerin carried Arkos onto his back while the badly wounded comrades continued a defensive attack.
Who was the next to go down? Who was the last? In the grand scheme it didn’t matter, for no manner of maneuvering would have saved the adventurers. There was the Betrayer above them in his armed, flying platform, seeing all and directing sorties from both inside the ziggurat and outside in the thick immediate jungles while dropping fireballs of his own. The heroes fought valiantly, but ultimately succumbed first to great pain, then the welcoming black gloom of troubled sleep.
In the darkness each hero continued to fall into a weightless void, alone in the dark for ages immeasurable. And within that eternal darkness came a yearning for some sort of contact, a touch of another voice to verify that the hero still existed and was not in some horrid limbo. That yearning was punctuated by strange moments where could be felt a clammy arm, or overly large black eyes staring forth from breathing masks and strangely-shaped heads. Then darkness again, but now a voice spoke into the mind of the hero. No, not a voice, but pure thought making contact and forming sentences more through impressions than actually words. And as the hero focused on that alien mind the hero found limbo recede slightly and he/she standing on an odd, rocky world with a chill breeze, and a night sky illuminated by two large purple moons, a smaller red one, and starry constellation the likes had never been imagined by man. A strange tune could be barely heard, like the constant humming of a million voices joined in a shared lullaby.
“Yes, you are alone. You were always alone. Your sad people could never help but be alone, lacking the ability to share their minds across endless space. And so you are dangerous, and will always be dangerous until you are made to join the Song. As it is you can barely perceive it, even with the help of others.”
The hero had many questions, but focused on one. Who was this invasive mind?
“You still perceive in the singular. You do not understand. Cannot understand. But to your question, does it matter who we are? We have much wisdom to show you, if you are ready.”
The hero grew angry. The hero remembered being attacked, hurt and crawling near comrades who called out for help. The hero wanted to know where they were and if they survived.
“Stubborn and strong. This is surprising. They keep surprising. But they must learn to accept us, or else the void…”
And the hero fell once more, into timeless space and darkness until the need for contact again became almost unbearable. The hero almost begged the voice and Song to return; to confirm existence and sanity. But another part refused to give in, and decided that it was better to be forever alone than give in to this sadistic mind that tormented and demanded obedience.
“No, not alone,” a friendlier, familiar voice said. “I’m here. I was never alone, and neither were you. We were always together.”
The hero focused on the voice, and his/her feet found purchase again on rocky earth and alien sky, with the Song lower and even less indiscernible in the background. It was Lealani who smiled at each of her companions, while they grinned back as they saw each other in turn, well and alive. “I heard you calling out and I found you. It was easy once I put my mind to it. ”
“So it was,” Sarpot agreed. “This turn of events feels to me like some sort of Sathar trick. But where are we now? This doesn’t seem like the SS Warden.”
“No, I doubt it is. Something tells me this is a Sathar world,” Mellisande added. “Look at the terrain and weird plants.”
“And the stars and the moon,” Nerin adds. “They are strange, but beautiful. And I bet if we study those stars long enough we can build a reasonable three-dimensional stellar chart. In fact, I bet I could pinpoint where this world is just by studying the sky. I don’t know why, but I feel I understand how to travel the stars and that given a ship, I could find my way somewhere close to here, but with the number of worlds in an area it would still be hard to determine the exact planet.”
Arkos then piped in. “No it wouldn’t be. This world has distinct fauna. If I was to study them some more and the atmosphere, I could determine their gaseous output and take a guess at the color the planet would have from space. Working together, we could easily determine where this is, and if it is the Sathar homeworld we…”
stop!
The word was like a small hammer blow to the brain, causing the heroes to shudder. They turned and noticed the presence of three odd humanoids wearing breathing apparatuses. “Stop. You surprise us once again, but this knowledge is not meant for you. Forget it and return to your rest. You have exhausted both your minds and bodies in this pursuit and further exertions may prove harmful.”
The party felt a sudden wave of exhaustion, but Nerin ignored the feeling and pressed on. “So we are on a Sathar world. Why should you care if we look to the sky? We cannot leave without a ship, and so our knowledge is useless.”
The Sathar stopped communicating, as if unsure how to proceed. It was Lealani who made the realization and fought the suggestion to rest in her anger. “Because we are not on a Sathar world, are we? This is all in our minds, a projection of what this world looked like. A memory perhaps, or a shared vision in your telepathic network. This is how you indoctrinate humans that came before.”
Sarpot cut in next, his belligerence shattering the remnants of the sleep suggestion as he took several mental steps in this unreality to shout into the faces of his Sathar captives, “If you can show worlds, I want to see my home next. Show me Earth! Show me what you have down to my home!”
The trio shifted uneasily, and in Sarpot’s mind he could sense their fear. Unconsciously, because of his demand, they thought of Earth, and the heroes saw the landscape melt and shift to something new. A beautiful blue sky and green fields tended by hard-working, but dirty and glassy-eyed fellow humans. It was a vision of Earth. Sarpot’s first thought was the stunning beauty of the land around him, but a second more devious thought struck him. “So the Sathar cannot handle anger well in their telepathic connections. This is good to know, and so very useful.”
“Earth,” Arkos said next, as stunned as the rest of his companions. “Yes, the flora seems right, as does the sky. But there is something wrong with the people.”
Lealani answered, “Brainwashed perhaps. Or more likely under mental control, but I cannot fathom how they could control a large population constantly like this. They do not see us, but it is good to know that they are alive. I keep thinking that this might not be a memory of the Sathar, after all. I think we are seeing through the eyes of other Sathars through their telepathic link.”
Nerin mused, “But they are alive, and it might be possible to break the link if we can get to Earth. I just need to get to a ship. The SS Warden itself perhaps, or some other craft. With a ship at my controls I can get us there and we can save them. We can save all of enslaved humanity.”
Mellisande chirped, “But if we are in the network, can’t we just do it from inside. The Sathar have somehow linked minds to their Song, which in turn allows them to make suggestions or create outright control. All we have to do is alter the Song so it doesn’t touch some humans. Like Lealani said, once you visualize it, it becomes easy.” And Mellisande reached out and pointed to a dozen of the field workers, who suddenly threw off their glassy-eyed stares and looked around in confusion as if seeing the world around them for the first time.
Stop!
The minds of the three Sathar hit the heroes again, causing the vision to swim once more. Now they were no longer on Earth, but floating in a strange, infinite void filled with stars.
“Will you stop doing that,” Sarpot shouted back angrily, his own mental attack stunning the trio for a brief moment. The Song was becoming easier to manipulate.
The Sathar’s fear was thick. “We pleaded for you to stop, demanded even, yet you persist. We do not know how you are doing this, but you have done damage. Not irreparable damage, but damage nonetheless. Now we threaten. Your bodies are still on the Warden, under our care. Though your minds are powerful in this plane of existence, they will still die if your bodies were eliminated. If you do not immediately sever yourselves from the Song and to the connection you share with one another, we will terminate you. We will now have other Sathar in the Song join with us to make a stronger suggestion for you to rest.”
And suddenly the Song grew in pitch and fever as the stars grew brighter and other Sathar from across space added their own will to the three in front of the party. A beautiful orchestra punctuated by flashes from a stellar lightshow, drowning out almost all thought with its lullaby.
“The Song,” Mellisande said in wonder. She could no longer sense anything else but the Song, not even the nearby Sathar or her companions. Yet she would not give into the suggestion of sleep, either. The Song was too interesting a thing to study. “At first it’s beautiful, but then you realize that there is something sadly missing. It’s like finding out that an entire section of an orchestra is missing. The Song isn’t a complete song. It’s a tragic fragment. A shattered sliver of what once was something much larger and more beautiful; leaving emptiness. It can never be restored no matter how the Sathar desperately try, but with the combined thoughts of so many Sathar joined with us, an imperfect memory of it can be heard.” And suddenly the melody changed, and the party understood what she meant by an incomplete orchestra as suddenly there were new sounds.
And across regions of Sathar space there was a stunned, mournful pause as countless minds listened and shrieked in mental anguish over the memory of what was lost...
STOP!
The heroes found themselves in their bodies once more, laying under medical equipment on cold, metal slabs. They were still armed and equipped, for they were no longer considered a threat once under the care of the three Sathar that writhed painfully in front of them. The mental link somehow remained enough for the heroes to understand their basic thoughts. They are not human! What are they! Too dangerous to ignore! Too dangerous to let live! Kill them! Kill them!
The Sathar on the left was the first to recover, and he reached for a dangerous rod that Lealani instantly recognized as a Rod of Distintegration. One touch would likely outright destroy any of her companions. She quickly cast a magic missile to stun it, but it barely held onto life as it tried to raise the rod again. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but then realized that her companions still shared the mental rapport even now that they had been forcibly ejected from the Song.
“Don’t worry, I got this,” Nerin said to her and the other heroes through his own mentally projected words, and in an instant he jumped forward, drew his blade, and severed the arm of the stunned Sathar before it could raise its weapon. It fell, bleeding out from multiple wounds.
Sarpot did not turn to see how his companions were doing. In his mind, he could see their success through the telepathic link. “I got the one on the right. Mellisande and Arkos, take the center.” Sarpot fatally blasted his target, while Mellisande used her magic to stun the last of the trio. Arkos struck it next, just below the jugular, killing it.
The party was victorious, but shared a feeling of stunned emotion through their telepathic link. Arkos said, “It seems the Sathar woke something in us. There are some implications here that I am beginning to understand. Give me a moment to piece it together.”
“Sure, but let me say that I’m not too keen on sharing thoughts with Sarpot. He has no appreciation for the arts,” Mellisande said with a half-smile.
“Well, you actually seem to have to focus mentally to be able to use our new link, and I can also focus on leaving it I’ve just found. I seem to have a talent for this and think I can teach you some tricks,” Lealani suggested.
“Later,” Nerin answered. “Right now let’s get out of here. I just looked out the door to this medical facility and found a large lift that looks to be in the center of this structure. I’ve a feeling, or perhaps a woken memory, that it goes up to GAIA.”
Sarpot smiled and said, “Good! Maybe we can get some answers. Let’s go before any more of these things show up.”
The heroes took the lift, realizing as they climbed that they were in a vertical tube that lay in the center of the Life Tree which provided sustenance to the land below. As they rode up, they saw the front of the ziggurat was the scene of a recent battle. Many yuan-ti, wolfmen, and Myconids lay dead on the field, and golems broken and destroyed. Although the losses were large on both sides, it was clear it was Myconid which was wiped out. Lealani touched Arkos’ shoulder and said, “They came to save us. Arkos, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Arkos could not turn his head away from the sight and stood in bitter silence. He felt the pod he carried shudder in despair through his new psychic link. Soon it would become Myconid. Perhaps the only Myconid left. ”I’ll protect you. Soon I will find a place for you,” he promised as he patted his new companion. The pod settled down, reassured, and Arkos heard its reply. ”My place is with Father. Father cares. Father protects.”
The lift finally stopped at its destination, and the doors opened into a cool, gray, perfectly formed passage made entirely of steel. In front of them was a huge door with the lettering ‘G.A.I.A’. “Well, that’s great but how do we get in,” Sarpot asked.
Suddenly a beam shot forth from a glass panel in the center of the door. “I recognize the following ranking members of the SS Warden staff: Captain Nara Singhe, Lieutenant Commander Kodar Kisharm, Major Marshall Potter, Captain Marcus Leazan, Anya Loki, Trevor Sander, Yuki Shotenboc, Jacques d'Arc, Melissa Athens, Doctor Sarah Granmerest. But I sense only five standing entities.” Arkos snorted, as if those words confirmed something he was pondering. The entity continued, “I am confused, but will follow my directives. Welcome, senior staff of the SS Warden. Please enter.” And with that, the great door lifted, releasing dust and stale air into the passageway.
Arkos was the first to walk in, muttering in disgust, “We’re just children. Or adults that never got to be children.”
---
To be concluded…
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Life just got extremely hectic, to the point where I've been too tired to even get online. Not that I have many, but all my games have fallen behind, I can't even keep up with my emails! So, it wasn't your game at all, I do so love them DT. This story surprised me from the beginning and I've loved it, even if my own actions haven't shown it.
