10-09-2016, 10:33 AM
The group wove their way through a network of tunnels.
After a few weeks (or was it a month at this point?) in the Ashen Steppes, Seventeen felt a great deal of indifference to the cramped tunnels that the convoy of astronomers and koopas wove their way through. The only difference between this and the other volcano was the distinct lack of heat. It was there, mind you, but the sweat on the cyborg’s brow came more from forcing himself through cramped spaces rather than any nearby pods of brewing magma.
“Mount Escorial used to be a massive pain in the butt for travelers in this part of the Ashen Steppes,” Seth Koopa remarked from in front of the machine-hybrid. “Used to generate so much magma that it would often been in a constant state of eruption for months.”
Seventeen snickered at the thought that they were casually shimmying their way inside a retired deathtrap. “What happened?”
The small-statured koopa shrugged his shoulders, causing his combed over hair to fall down in front of his eyes, necessitating a quick flick to put it back in place. “No one’s for sure,” he muttered. “If you ask a few people, they say that there used to be a dragon that lurked in these regions.”
“Volvagia?” Seventeen asked.
“Not quite as big or as famous. I think his name was, uh…”
A female voice interjected from further up the line. “Her name was Roseus. They say that treasure hunters infiltrated the mountain, stole her treasures, and destroyed her clutch of eggs. They say her rage was so powerful that it fueled an eruption that lasted for half a year and destroyed a few dozen miles of the Ashen Steppes.”
Seventeen, fondly remembering his girlfriend’s pregnancy, knew what an angry woman was capable of, regardless of her species. “That doesn’t explain how she died.”
Marie, who stopped to glance back at her troupe leader, wore a scowl on her face. “Some band of warriors, they say. Bunch of fruitcakes from Coruscant or the Vasty or something…”
“You make them sound so capable,” Seventeen remarked, eliciting a snicker from Seth and a few of the other nearby koopas who could overhear the conversation. “Are you fruitcakes still around?”
The scowling lady koopa shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing else on ‘em. Probably got what they deserved.”
“So what do we deserve for traipsing around this crypt?” Seth remarked glumly as the group had to drop to their knees to get underneath a sagging tunnel ceiling.
Marie, once everyone was on the other side of the obstruction, took a moment to fix her lipstick before responding to the question. “We deserve what we get, S. We gonna find out what that is pretty soon.”
From his position at the back of the group, Seventeen scowled but didn’t make a comment. He still felt unnerved about Dutch’s remarks that they had been stalked across the Ashen Steppes, so Marie’s tale about dead dragonesses and ‘fruitcake’ warriors did little to settle his mood.
Squelch.
Seventeen stopped dead in his tracks and turned sharply back toward the sagging tunnel. The noise—like that of a wet boot on linoleum—had come from the other side of the obstruction, but he knew he had heard it. As the group advanced further, the cyborg remained focused on the three-foot gap that they had crawled out of a few moments earlier. He knew that his low-light vision wasn’t perfect, but he swore he could see faint traces of heat down through that crawlspace.
“Mr. Seventeen?” Seth’s voice pulled the cyborg away from the space and back toward the gradually vanishing line of astronomers and koopa. “Everything okay?”
Before he answered, Seventeen turned back to the crawlspace. The faint traces of heat were gone…
Of-fucking-course.
After a few weeks (or was it a month at this point?) in the Ashen Steppes, Seventeen felt a great deal of indifference to the cramped tunnels that the convoy of astronomers and koopas wove their way through. The only difference between this and the other volcano was the distinct lack of heat. It was there, mind you, but the sweat on the cyborg’s brow came more from forcing himself through cramped spaces rather than any nearby pods of brewing magma.
“Mount Escorial used to be a massive pain in the butt for travelers in this part of the Ashen Steppes,” Seth Koopa remarked from in front of the machine-hybrid. “Used to generate so much magma that it would often been in a constant state of eruption for months.”
Seventeen snickered at the thought that they were casually shimmying their way inside a retired deathtrap. “What happened?”
The small-statured koopa shrugged his shoulders, causing his combed over hair to fall down in front of his eyes, necessitating a quick flick to put it back in place. “No one’s for sure,” he muttered. “If you ask a few people, they say that there used to be a dragon that lurked in these regions.”
“Volvagia?” Seventeen asked.
“Not quite as big or as famous. I think his name was, uh…”
A female voice interjected from further up the line. “Her name was Roseus. They say that treasure hunters infiltrated the mountain, stole her treasures, and destroyed her clutch of eggs. They say her rage was so powerful that it fueled an eruption that lasted for half a year and destroyed a few dozen miles of the Ashen Steppes.”
Seventeen, fondly remembering his girlfriend’s pregnancy, knew what an angry woman was capable of, regardless of her species. “That doesn’t explain how she died.”
Marie, who stopped to glance back at her troupe leader, wore a scowl on her face. “Some band of warriors, they say. Bunch of fruitcakes from Coruscant or the Vasty or something…”
“You make them sound so capable,” Seventeen remarked, eliciting a snicker from Seth and a few of the other nearby koopas who could overhear the conversation. “Are you fruitcakes still around?”
The scowling lady koopa shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing else on ‘em. Probably got what they deserved.”
“So what do we deserve for traipsing around this crypt?” Seth remarked glumly as the group had to drop to their knees to get underneath a sagging tunnel ceiling.
Marie, once everyone was on the other side of the obstruction, took a moment to fix her lipstick before responding to the question. “We deserve what we get, S. We gonna find out what that is pretty soon.”
From his position at the back of the group, Seventeen scowled but didn’t make a comment. He still felt unnerved about Dutch’s remarks that they had been stalked across the Ashen Steppes, so Marie’s tale about dead dragonesses and ‘fruitcake’ warriors did little to settle his mood.
Squelch.
Seventeen stopped dead in his tracks and turned sharply back toward the sagging tunnel. The noise—like that of a wet boot on linoleum—had come from the other side of the obstruction, but he knew he had heard it. As the group advanced further, the cyborg remained focused on the three-foot gap that they had crawled out of a few moments earlier. He knew that his low-light vision wasn’t perfect, but he swore he could see faint traces of heat down through that crawlspace.
“Mr. Seventeen?” Seth’s voice pulled the cyborg away from the space and back toward the gradually vanishing line of astronomers and koopa. “Everything okay?”
Before he answered, Seventeen turned back to the crawlspace. The faint traces of heat were gone…
Of-fucking-course.