Golden
Active member
Hidden within the deepest levels of the Hard Nox, shielded from the bitter cold of the Ice Lands, the newly appointed quartermaster found herself deeply overwhelmed by her new role. She’d opted to take a break from her illegible scribbles and the goddamn numbers that plagued her mind in the office, instead descending to do the same fucking thing in the storage room. More scribbles, more numbers, but almost entirely in the dark. A mere lantern illuminated the rolled up parchment that her predecessor had filled out, in handwriting much neater than her own.
An occasional groan of the wooden hull, a droplet of water, or footsteps from above kept her company, ensuring that silence never truly enveloped her. Until a distant screech filled the air. Initially, she suspected a disease-ridden rat, but then it happened again, closer. It didn’t sound like the patter of tiny feet, or their accompanied squeaks, but rather, as though something was being dragged against the wood, piercing the floor.
Slowly, the fae emerged from the storage room, holding the lantern up to illuminate the surrounding hall. Nothing.
Another, high-pitched moan.
“Who the fuck is that?” She bit out sharply, her patience already nearing levels of insanity.
But there was no response, none apart from another drag.
Alys took another step closer, gaze falling down, in the direction of the sound. And there, just barely illuminated by the faint light, a spindly object emerged.
She approached it as it stilled, one of it’s three segments leaning against the wall. Without much care, the fae watched it for a moment, observing how it sat there, unmoving. Seemingly useless. Was this one of Mal’s new creations?
Raising her foot ever so slightly, the fae prodded it with the toe of her boot, testing to see whether the object would react to touch. And whether or not it could be corralled back to where it came from.
An occasional groan of the wooden hull, a droplet of water, or footsteps from above kept her company, ensuring that silence never truly enveloped her. Until a distant screech filled the air. Initially, she suspected a disease-ridden rat, but then it happened again, closer. It didn’t sound like the patter of tiny feet, or their accompanied squeaks, but rather, as though something was being dragged against the wood, piercing the floor.
Slowly, the fae emerged from the storage room, holding the lantern up to illuminate the surrounding hall. Nothing.
Another, high-pitched moan.
“Who the fuck is that?” She bit out sharply, her patience already nearing levels of insanity.
But there was no response, none apart from another drag.
Alys took another step closer, gaze falling down, in the direction of the sound. And there, just barely illuminated by the faint light, a spindly object emerged.
She approached it as it stilled, one of it’s three segments leaning against the wall. Without much care, the fae watched it for a moment, observing how it sat there, unmoving. Seemingly useless. Was this one of Mal’s new creations?
Raising her foot ever so slightly, the fae prodded it with the toe of her boot, testing to see whether the object would react to touch. And whether or not it could be corralled back to where it came from.