Mow down the mutants, and make my way to the lower decks.
[6+
1+
2] You wrap your tentacle around the gun and step into the hallway, the beasts turning at the sound of your voice, the Gatling gun spinning for a few seconds to warm up, before it rips through the shell-less aliens, splattering meat and gore across the hallway.
[7] You set off after blowing smoke from the gun, walking past the scattered, ripped remains of tentacles and writhing body parts.
[3+2 vs 7]As you pass a door-way, another Horror jumps out, talons ripping through the shell of your arm and shoulder painfully as you try to bring your sword to bear on it.(-1 health. 3 health remaining)
[9+2+1 vs 6] You ram your sharpened blade into it's gut, through the mutated shell, before drawing the razor blade up, slicing it from gut to gizzard. It collapses, bleeding out in seconds.
[7+2 vs 4+1]You find the landing for the walkway, despite the darkness, and the mob of these beasts that rest there. Their eyes blink upon spotting you, before the rattle of shells and the drone of the chain-gun cuts them down to size.
You hear a loud, dark growl emerging from the lower decks, followed by thunderous foot steps as something begins to ascend the walkway.
Black, segmented shell covers this beast from head to claw, ooze, dripping from various pores within it and reflecting the low, emergency lighting dully. The beast’s slavering, reptilian maw is perpetually open, showing sharp, jagged teeth and a far too long forked tongued, which flickers in and out, testing the air. Massive dark red claws click and scrabble on the metal floor, each stained with green blood, extend from thick, heavily muscled arms as tall as yourself, shifting and twitching. Sprouting from it’s back are a number of tentacles, which match the frills of it’s head, which squirm and wriggle, sharp, barbed hooks sometime scoring self-mutilating lines on it’s own shell. Another set of tentacles hang down from under it’s chin, shuffling along the floor, leaving a trail of slime and goo.
It’s multitude of red eyes blink, watching you as it’s lumbering, loping strides come to a stop.
Zhaj never did get an answer from Foster, but he shrugged and wrote the Chronicle off as "complete."
[?] It seems your next assignment is to head to the election, to watch it unfold and chronicle it, along with a few others.
Then he emerges from the room, all merriment gone from his features, and he slowly reaches up to brush his hair from his eyes. A false grin reappearing.
[~] As Maxwell steps out of the room, a man steps up to him, dressed in military fatigues, extending a hand for a handshake, which Hayes obliges. There's a look of uncertainty as the man's grip tightens, which shifts to panic as that man slips a pistol out from under his jacket, presses it to the center of Hayes' chest, and pulls the trigger. The bullet rips through his chest, blood splattering the other man, staining Max's coat.
[~] Maxwell falls back as the other man lets him go, free hand scrabbling for his own jacket pocket as the man turns, making to flee.
[3] And that he does, slipping out the door and into the building proper, dodging gunfire and bullet blasts.
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Topic: Voandrath (Yak-Space)(Demigods Destroyed: 1) (Read 39610 times)