Re: Epic Clash Round 4 - The Unholy Fortress
09-08-2010, 01:40 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Thomas' mind had reverted back to its normal state, the homey apartment with the worn carpet and comfortable couch. Greg sat behind his desk, shuffling through some papers, Eric and Walt sat at either ends of the couch, staring out the window, and Bern stood, flushed with colour, moving their body through the tunnels, heading ever deeper.
"What do you suppose it meant?", Eric asked, still thinking about Spender's brief message on the wall.
"Not sure," Greg replied, his tone just as lackadaisical as Eric's. "There isn't really enough data to speculate."
"I think it was a threat," Bern said distractedly, "letting the others know not to mess with him."
"Maybe it was just a message," Walt mused. "Perhaps it's just his way of letting us know he's alive."
"Mm. Could be."
The four of them lapsed back into silence as they moved further down the tunnels.
After several minutes, Greg looked up from his papers, frowning. "What are we doing, anyway?"
"Hm?", Eric replied. "What do you mean?"
Greg stood up and moved over to the others. "I mean, what are we doing? Are we just going to walk aimlessly through these tunnels until we run into more murderous miners?"
"Guess so."
Stifling a yawn, Greg continued, "Doesn't that seem a bit odd? Shouldn't we do something a bit more, I don't know, focused? Maybe head back, try to meet up with... with the others?" He leaned on the wall, yawning again. "Maybe we shouldn't... shouldn't be wandering..." He trailed off, his eyes drooping, and by the time he hit the well-worn carpet, he was asleep.
The others didn't really take notice. Bern kept moving, taking them deeper, and Eric and Walt just sat back in the couch, completely uninterested in the world around them.
After another few minutes of walking, they came across what should've been an odd sight. The tracks themselves were old and rusty, but the mine cart that sat waiting was far too clean. Its frame was rust-free, and the wood sturdy and untouched by mould or rot.
The strange apathy that had kept them walking led them to climb in, Eric taking control and moving the cart into motion with a gentle push of air. Slowly, it began to roll, bearing its entirely unconcerned passengers ever deeper into the tunnels.
Thomas' mind had reverted back to its normal state, the homey apartment with the worn carpet and comfortable couch. Greg sat behind his desk, shuffling through some papers, Eric and Walt sat at either ends of the couch, staring out the window, and Bern stood, flushed with colour, moving their body through the tunnels, heading ever deeper.
"What do you suppose it meant?", Eric asked, still thinking about Spender's brief message on the wall.
"Not sure," Greg replied, his tone just as lackadaisical as Eric's. "There isn't really enough data to speculate."
"I think it was a threat," Bern said distractedly, "letting the others know not to mess with him."
"Maybe it was just a message," Walt mused. "Perhaps it's just his way of letting us know he's alive."
"Mm. Could be."
The four of them lapsed back into silence as they moved further down the tunnels.
After several minutes, Greg looked up from his papers, frowning. "What are we doing, anyway?"
"Hm?", Eric replied. "What do you mean?"
Greg stood up and moved over to the others. "I mean, what are we doing? Are we just going to walk aimlessly through these tunnels until we run into more murderous miners?"
"Guess so."
Stifling a yawn, Greg continued, "Doesn't that seem a bit odd? Shouldn't we do something a bit more, I don't know, focused? Maybe head back, try to meet up with... with the others?" He leaned on the wall, yawning again. "Maybe we shouldn't... shouldn't be wandering..." He trailed off, his eyes drooping, and by the time he hit the well-worn carpet, he was asleep.
The others didn't really take notice. Bern kept moving, taking them deeper, and Eric and Walt just sat back in the couch, completely uninterested in the world around them.
After another few minutes of walking, they came across what should've been an odd sight. The tracks themselves were old and rusty, but the mine cart that sat waiting was far too clean. Its frame was rust-free, and the wood sturdy and untouched by mould or rot.
The strange apathy that had kept them walking led them to climb in, Eric taking control and moving the cart into motion with a gentle push of air. Slowly, it began to roll, bearing its entirely unconcerned passengers ever deeper into the tunnels.