05-17-2017, 11:24 AM
The three Primes journeyed on through the frozen wastes. The arctic wind howled, sending tendrils frozen dust undulating across the tundra, and the skies above them grew darker as they journeyed deeper into the heart of the 'verse, promising to bury the already-frozen world beneath roaring walls of billowing white. Mountains loomed in the distance, jagged teeth scraping against the gray roof of the ice-bound world.
"It appears as though there is going to be a blizzard," said the Toa of Ice, pausing atop a rime-bound ridge, a stony spine protruding from beneath the ice.
The huntress agreed, the taste of ozone and dry frost sharp on her tongue.
"Then what are we standing here for?" Demanded the warlock. "We've got to find shelter!"
The wind shifted. Abruptly, all three of their liberator-aides began to buzz as the Nebula-sensitive radars became active once again. A pulsing purple blotch had appeared Northwest of their position, accompanied by the words "STRONGHOLD DETECTED".
All three Primes were silent. Weiss looked up, scanning the Horizon with a practiced eye. After a long moment, she pointed.
"There."
In the shadow of a stunted mountain separated from the main range, its top shattered as though by a blow from a colossal hammer, was a fissure in the ice: An enormous rocky causeway lined with standing stones cut a path deep into the base of the mountain, eventually disappearing between the weathered columns of an oversize stone gate, carved from the living rock. Tiny, dark shapes moved hurriedly around it in a frantic rush of activity, barely pinpricks against the blue-white shade of the tundra, shifting equipment and vehicles in preparation for the storm.
There were larger shapes too, on the snow-covered slopes nearby: Manlike shadows, their eyes glowing red and bodies steaming with blackened corruption. They crouched, brooding, upon a rock-face lined with the tumbled, ice-bound ruins of a titanic, ancient keep.
Giants.
"It appears as though there is going to be a blizzard," said the Toa of Ice, pausing atop a rime-bound ridge, a stony spine protruding from beneath the ice.
The huntress agreed, the taste of ozone and dry frost sharp on her tongue.
"Then what are we standing here for?" Demanded the warlock. "We've got to find shelter!"
The wind shifted. Abruptly, all three of their liberator-aides began to buzz as the Nebula-sensitive radars became active once again. A pulsing purple blotch had appeared Northwest of their position, accompanied by the words "STRONGHOLD DETECTED".
All three Primes were silent. Weiss looked up, scanning the Horizon with a practiced eye. After a long moment, she pointed.
"There."
In the shadow of a stunted mountain separated from the main range, its top shattered as though by a blow from a colossal hammer, was a fissure in the ice: An enormous rocky causeway lined with standing stones cut a path deep into the base of the mountain, eventually disappearing between the weathered columns of an oversize stone gate, carved from the living rock. Tiny, dark shapes moved hurriedly around it in a frantic rush of activity, barely pinpricks against the blue-white shade of the tundra, shifting equipment and vehicles in preparation for the storm.
There were larger shapes too, on the snow-covered slopes nearby: Manlike shadows, their eyes glowing red and bodies steaming with blackened corruption. They crouched, brooding, upon a rock-face lined with the tumbled, ice-bound ruins of a titanic, ancient keep.
Giants.
Quote:Stronghold located. One last challenge to get by before reaching it!
A blizzard is in the midst of brewing. And there are plenty of Nebula's forces frantically securing their goods and moving them into the shelter of their lair within the lone mountain that houses their stronghold. Your objective here is simple: get past the guardians outside and gain entry.
There is a swarm of several dozen lesser underlings and soldiers, working to get their cargo safely secured and out of the impending blizzard. Among them are a handful of actual sergeants and officers, with clarity of mind to give them some order and direction. And the handful of giants lurking around, on the snowy slopes.
The snow will provide some cover, but the paranoia of the denizens of the dark means they won't miss your group forever.
You have five days and up to 1500 words each to get to the stronghold. Best of luck.