07-22-2016, 03:12 PM
Declan Gregory
PPC
Gun spent with wild shooting, Declan smacked around his body in search of another magazine and fumbled to put it in place. The beast roared with pain overhead as Declan stooped within its shadow. But the pain was not of his doing. It little more than flinched at what must feel like bee stings in its body. Something else was wrenching it apart. Declan hoped it was Soren.
Soren!
He fumbled for the amulet around his neck. No it wasn't there. His pocket. No it was empty. His wrist! But the cording was gone. Frantically, he searched the snow, finding nothing but foot prints and pink rivers.
A great howl of defiance lifted his gaze uphill. Soren held the amulet aloft and stalked closer. A tentacle rose in retaliation, and smacked into his friend's body, felling him.
"Soren!" Declan yelled, but his voice was weak in the wind. Snow prickled his face. Soren was unmoving for a moment. The gun was ready.
That's when he saw it. A flicker from the corner of his eye. The guardian, fully risen like an arctic blubbery worm, abandoned its guardianship in search of its attackers. Water suctioned, pulsed and bobbed like the ocean under the beating of a tempest.
In the guardian's absence, the water swirled into a whirlpool and drained in the center. The surface of the water lowered. Ancient skeletons, the army after whom the lake was named, rose in its place, pristine and bone-white. Declan sensed the pull of the lake. To plunge into the dark depths of its center.
His head whipped back. Soren had risen, face bloodied pink and red with fury. The beast fell before him and snow powdered around the crash. The hills shook, and Declan searched for signs of avalanche.
Sure the beast was unresponsive, he loped to the former edge of the drained lake. Skeletons and ice made for a crunchy carpet. But the doorway, or hole, or cave - it seemed too architectural to be natural - beckoned.
Apathetic about preserving the dead, Declan picked his way to the center of the lake, beating Soren to the edge, and he peered downward. Darkness such that hadn't seen the light of sun in a thousand years - or more - peered back into him.
"It's an entrance!" he cried. "There's something. I see something down there!" He grinned victorious.
PPC
Gun spent with wild shooting, Declan smacked around his body in search of another magazine and fumbled to put it in place. The beast roared with pain overhead as Declan stooped within its shadow. But the pain was not of his doing. It little more than flinched at what must feel like bee stings in its body. Something else was wrenching it apart. Declan hoped it was Soren.
Soren!
He fumbled for the amulet around his neck. No it wasn't there. His pocket. No it was empty. His wrist! But the cording was gone. Frantically, he searched the snow, finding nothing but foot prints and pink rivers.
A great howl of defiance lifted his gaze uphill. Soren held the amulet aloft and stalked closer. A tentacle rose in retaliation, and smacked into his friend's body, felling him.
"Soren!" Declan yelled, but his voice was weak in the wind. Snow prickled his face. Soren was unmoving for a moment. The gun was ready.
That's when he saw it. A flicker from the corner of his eye. The guardian, fully risen like an arctic blubbery worm, abandoned its guardianship in search of its attackers. Water suctioned, pulsed and bobbed like the ocean under the beating of a tempest.
In the guardian's absence, the water swirled into a whirlpool and drained in the center. The surface of the water lowered. Ancient skeletons, the army after whom the lake was named, rose in its place, pristine and bone-white. Declan sensed the pull of the lake. To plunge into the dark depths of its center.
His head whipped back. Soren had risen, face bloodied pink and red with fury. The beast fell before him and snow powdered around the crash. The hills shook, and Declan searched for signs of avalanche.
Sure the beast was unresponsive, he loped to the former edge of the drained lake. Skeletons and ice made for a crunchy carpet. But the doorway, or hole, or cave - it seemed too architectural to be natural - beckoned.
Apathetic about preserving the dead, Declan picked his way to the center of the lake, beating Soren to the edge, and he peered downward. Darkness such that hadn't seen the light of sun in a thousand years - or more - peered back into him.
"It's an entrance!" he cried. "There's something. I see something down there!" He grinned victorious.