Aug. 26th, 2013

wipeawaythedebt: (took the shot)
The power has gone out. Routine automated maintenance systems and life support are the only things running. They're not enough. The lights have gone out, and they won't be on again for three days. The miner of the Midnight Isle used to take these power downs as unofficial holidays. Card games by battery-operated lights, cold canned dinners and gossip among men who were away from home a year or more at a time. But not now. Now the darkness was silent...

...until it wasn't.

The sounds in the walls, the scratching and slithering get louder and louder until there's a crash from somewhere deep in the ground. That's when the screams start. Inhuman screams from inhuman throats broken only by the sounds of crystalline claws on the metal floors. Shadows grew into monstrous forms with ebon-black scales and no eyes. The monsters of the Midnight Isle were freed from the dark.

And they were hungry.

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Booker DeWitt

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