08-21-2015, 07:32 PM
Ack, yes. The temple is behind us, though not without leaving us a few bumps and bruises for our grand exit. Both the Captain and I are respectively smacked in the face by an ill-mannered trap. How dare it not have the courtesy to let us escape! At any rate, I no longer care. Finally, free of that cesspool and it's pungent smells. So long as I don't walk too close to my companions, at least. Speaking of my allies, it would appear that our robotic friend is attempting a sort of symbiotic merging with Crow. How utterly intriguing! It almost makes me wish that we had a moment to stop and study this-
Well this is...Less than pleasant.
After escaping from the bottomless (but not really) pit, we made moves for the light ahead. The closer we got, however, the more unsettling things became. I could hear them...Hear them again, louder and clearer than ever before. The voices of the damned. Their whispers, their cries for help, their repentance. It all seeps into my mind, coaxing my sanity from me.
I do not believe the others are aware of it yet. They do not hear, cannot hear. I am jealous of their ignorance.
However, it is this ignorance that is going to get them killed. I see the shadows move, grasping for the Nephilim, who was tending to his weakened friend. Without any modem of thought, I whip out Boomhilda and squeeze the trigger. The energy bolt reduces the zombie's head to a mass of burnt viscera as the body falls into the open. Grave shoots me as startled look, acknowledging my assistance. I nod back, but only slightly. My eyes have a distant, foggy look about them.
The voices.
Samantha. Samantha it is her doing. This hell I have walked through, all of it. She knew that I was going to seize the Aether from her and gain control of the undead hordes, she must have. She sent me here using the very power I lust for to face mein doom at the hands of the same beasts that wrought death and destruction to the dig site, to the Fatherland, and to the world. I even stare down these monstrosities with another hapless group of make-shift allies. My thoughts are slowly becoming muddled and tampered with, as if they were not mine to develop. I begin to get a fuzzy, deafened sensation in my ears. The only thing I can hear crystal clear is the sound of my own last breaths and the fucking voices.
I try to shove all of this from my mind, and keep moving with the group. It doesn't work.
When we finally reach the mouth of the cave, we break open into dismal, muted sunlight. I shield my eyes so as to get a better look at our new surroundings.
"Untoten."
The word floats upon my breath with a whisper. I know the others hear it now. The ceaseless chanting, the moaning and groaning of the damned and forgotten, those ravaged by the disease. These are not the same undead I am accustomed to, but it matters not. They sound the same. We are surrounded by a Legion of the Damned. Some are grouped together in mass hordes, just waiting to be blown to smithereens in a GLORIOUS DISPLAY OF SCIENCE AND EXPLOSIONS AND POWER AND
Oh. Some of the others are staring at me. I am wearing a sickening smile stretched wide across my face. I realize I should be worried and fearful for our current situation, and I do believe that I am. No matter how much I wish it would go away, I can not dispose of this mask of glee.
"Have you gone daft then, you bleedin' quack?"
"No, my robust, brash, simple-minded friend. I am simply excited."
When I speak, I do not hear my voice. I hear something else. I am not entirely sure what it is.
This frightens me.
I slowly place both of my hands on my gun so as to steady it, levying the pretty pretty sight on one horde in particular. There is fresh blood on their disgusting, corrupted bodies.
This also frightens me.
In my head, I see scenes of horror and gore and strife. I see France, Germany, Britain, Russia, the World, all of it being devoured by the hordes. I see myself and Dempsey and Takeo and Nikolai. Fighting. Killing what is already dead. I did not think the crazed grin on my face could grow any wider, but it does. I am so scared, so horrified of what is to come. But I want it to happen so, so very badly. I want this death and destruction. My hands begin to twitch.
I am losing control.
The voices, they are calling me to action. They are calling me to relieve them of their sorrow, their suffering.
The voices.
I say something else, but I do not hear it. My words are lost to the constant, never-ending cacophony.
Well this is...Less than pleasant.
After escaping from the bottomless (but not really) pit, we made moves for the light ahead. The closer we got, however, the more unsettling things became. I could hear them...Hear them again, louder and clearer than ever before. The voices of the damned. Their whispers, their cries for help, their repentance. It all seeps into my mind, coaxing my sanity from me.
I do not believe the others are aware of it yet. They do not hear, cannot hear. I am jealous of their ignorance.
However, it is this ignorance that is going to get them killed. I see the shadows move, grasping for the Nephilim, who was tending to his weakened friend. Without any modem of thought, I whip out Boomhilda and squeeze the trigger. The energy bolt reduces the zombie's head to a mass of burnt viscera as the body falls into the open. Grave shoots me as startled look, acknowledging my assistance. I nod back, but only slightly. My eyes have a distant, foggy look about them.
The voices.
Samantha. Samantha it is her doing. This hell I have walked through, all of it. She knew that I was going to seize the Aether from her and gain control of the undead hordes, she must have. She sent me here using the very power I lust for to face mein doom at the hands of the same beasts that wrought death and destruction to the dig site, to the Fatherland, and to the world. I even stare down these monstrosities with another hapless group of make-shift allies. My thoughts are slowly becoming muddled and tampered with, as if they were not mine to develop. I begin to get a fuzzy, deafened sensation in my ears. The only thing I can hear crystal clear is the sound of my own last breaths and the fucking voices.
I try to shove all of this from my mind, and keep moving with the group. It doesn't work.
When we finally reach the mouth of the cave, we break open into dismal, muted sunlight. I shield my eyes so as to get a better look at our new surroundings.
"Untoten."
The word floats upon my breath with a whisper. I know the others hear it now. The ceaseless chanting, the moaning and groaning of the damned and forgotten, those ravaged by the disease. These are not the same undead I am accustomed to, but it matters not. They sound the same. We are surrounded by a Legion of the Damned. Some are grouped together in mass hordes, just waiting to be blown to smithereens in a GLORIOUS DISPLAY OF SCIENCE AND EXPLOSIONS AND POWER AND
Oh. Some of the others are staring at me. I am wearing a sickening smile stretched wide across my face. I realize I should be worried and fearful for our current situation, and I do believe that I am. No matter how much I wish it would go away, I can not dispose of this mask of glee.
"Have you gone daft then, you bleedin' quack?"
"No, my robust, brash, simple-minded friend. I am simply excited."
When I speak, I do not hear my voice. I hear something else. I am not entirely sure what it is.
This frightens me.
I slowly place both of my hands on my gun so as to steady it, levying the pretty pretty sight on one horde in particular. There is fresh blood on their disgusting, corrupted bodies.
This also frightens me.
In my head, I see scenes of horror and gore and strife. I see France, Germany, Britain, Russia, the World, all of it being devoured by the hordes. I see myself and Dempsey and Takeo and Nikolai. Fighting. Killing what is already dead. I did not think the crazed grin on my face could grow any wider, but it does. I am so scared, so horrified of what is to come. But I want it to happen so, so very badly. I want this death and destruction. My hands begin to twitch.
I am losing control.
The voices, they are calling me to action. They are calling me to relieve them of their sorrow, their suffering.
The voices.
I say something else, but I do not hear it. My words are lost to the constant, never-ending cacophony.
Quote:Translations:
Untoten = Undead
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![[Image: dlpaou6b73f.gif]](http://www.auplod.com/u/dlpaou6b73f.gif)
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover