Trashgod – part VIII

4 Dec

Percival kept on mumbling poetry throughout most of the night, sleeping or awake, but Vasilisk and Mini where too tired to notice it. They didn’t sleep well though, as the ultrasound residue of the noise dragon’s booming cries trickled all the way down to them, fiddling with their metabolism and Vasilisk’s vestigial echolocation organ.

–          Which way do we go now, boss? asked Mini staring up the steep shaft they’d slid down on.

There was no way back. Noise dragon stalking on the surface or not, the way they’d come in was inaccessible.

–          Only one way left …

The scalding carbide lamp kept darkness at arm’s length, but it quickly rushed in on their footsteps as they went down the chilly corridor with a gagged and sedated Percival.

The occasional banging noise coming out of the depths as the only accompanying soundtrack got louder and scarier as they pushed on. Whenever they reached a fork in the road, Vasilisk pointed out to the one that sounded less likely to lead them to the source, until they realized that all options inevitably took them closer.

They reached the nexus after precisely 253 minutes of hard marching. The walls dissolved in a gigantic cavern, as the floor under their feet turned into a bridge of stone. Everything was glowing with fungus and leachate and they could see the pathway finishing off abruptly just before connecting to the shaggy metal spire rising in the middle. Vasilisk thought he’d heard Percival mumbling a line from Marlowe’s Childe Roland when he looked at countless other bridges and entryways throughout the entire cavern, ponting in the same way to the epicenter.

They felt like specks of dust, lost in the darkness and size of the underground chamber, not fit to receive all the unwanted attention they got when a huge spotlight pinned them down.


Sharp sound and a line of reddish vapor added muscle to the threat. Vasilisk recognized it as the telltale mark of a relay gun.


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