Transcript of telepathic recording transmitted via aetheric comm. Ethan Rex walks the Plateau in search of the Pylon. -- T.Q. Clamber down the cliff after the Fell Walker. Lope across the wash towards the narrow canyon. The Aetheric Dowswer hangs under my shirt, rapping against my chest as I run. How out of the ordinary to have gear on my person instead of in a subdimensional pocket. Don’t even remember re-sheathing the Fake Sword of Stanis up my sleeve but I must have. The Fell Walker darts across the wash with elastic, inhumanly long strides. Not unlike the gait of a wind-stick devil. It slips into the shadows of the narrow canyon. The Aetheric Dowser radiates at me, Yes, yes, this way lies the Pylon. The canyon proves narrow and deep like a mazy city alleyway. Luminous clouds contort overhead. Flashing magenta orange sickly green stark gray. Lightning sheets across the surface of the sky. I focus on maintaining my sprint. Scanning the shadows for occasional glimpses of the acrobatic Fell Walker. Legs pumping. Heart blasting habafropzipulops-infused blood deep into my brain and body. Would that I could pray. Please make the contorting flashing sky nothing but my mind wild with habafropzipulops and not Vhöl-sign. But any prayer about Vhöl risks becoming a prayer to Vhöl. So I can only run. The Fell Walker stays always just past hope of capture. Only glimpses but enough glimpses to keep chase. The canyon, or whatever this is, zigs and zags and then splits. Little crag in the middle. Old ruin atop it. The shadowy fiend flings itself in through a window. Clamber up the crag. Lever myself in the same window the Fell Walker used. Shell of a stone building. Roofless, bright night sky twisting overhead. Stony interior. Cluttered with people in robes and fat candles in sconces. The Fell Walker slides through the crowd and leaps upon a crude oblong stone altar in the center of the temple. “Brethren and sistern and siblings!” it calls to the crowd. “Behold, as promised!” A grandiose gesture. Everyone turns to look at me. Panic and numbness and a shrill euphoria from the drugs. Hooded robes with shadowed faces. A glint of eyes, part of a leering visage, mostly only indiscernible murk. Hands reach for me from all sides….
If you’re digging the Insurgent Otherworld chapters that cover Ethan Rex’s strange adventures out on the Plateau of Leng, you’re going to love the next Weird Luck novel we’ll be serializing on this site (after we’ve finished posting Insurgent Otherworld and the next batch of webcomic pages).
See you next Wednesday,