Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Story Seed - Inhabitation

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He checked the artifact once again.  The symbols were of little meaning, their language and the people who spoke it were long dead, but the changing colors, the way that the bars elongated and curled, all told him that this would lead him toward something else.  He was still on the right path the device told him, and he slid it back into the pouch at his waist.  Two statues, weathered and broken, stood guarding steps that led to some ruin of the past.  This was an eighth world site he felt certain; too much detail remained for this to be older.

As he mounted the steps, carefully and deliberately, he felt the tiny hair on his arm prickle upward.  Ethereal projections appeared before him, flickering and stuttering from age and damage.  Some spoke in strange language, others screeched with corrupted recordings.  The effect cascaded through the silent ruin like a tidal wave.  Up ahead something roared.  Something alive, and hungry.