EVENTS:


Anne: "Hrm. You should be apologising for taking a sentient person as your vehicle, before that. But let bygones be bygones."

Pierre: "Things happen. It's the way of this world. If not for you all, and your blob, some other doom would have visited the village in time. So don't sweat it too much, it's-"

Anne: "Merde! They're coming. Hang on tight!"


Indeed, looking back, it's possible to see a flock of large shapes, rapidly falling down the chasm in pursuit of the party. Anne guns the engine, and the sudden negative G-force causes everyone to redout for a moment.


...


Well, this is strange. In the few seconds it took the girls to get back to their senses, the landscape seems to have changed dramatically. The Rosas that make most surfaces are more compacted here, faces and limbs indistinguishable as they're pressed together by the sheer gravity of the blob's core. Droplets of a sticky white liquid rain down from the distant ceiling, congealing into a sort of heavy foam as they hit the ground, covering the landscape in a slippery carpet of froth.

Some strange structure can be seen in the distance, its broken metal frame curled in a spiral around a small metal bridge. Millions of winged forms circle it like a living hurricane, occasionally crashing into one another and falling into the bottomless chasm below.




____________________________________________________________________________________


Sally shakes her head.

Sally: "Nay, unless someone rips me guts out've it. An' that's gonna take a while."

She punches the side of her torso, denting the adhered metalwork and causing a gush of blood to spray out. Within seconds, a viscous tar begins to seep from the wound, collecting particles of floating dust to cover the damaged area.

Sally: "Bloody body, always thinkin' I'm about to die. I ain't hidin' within' yer shell!"




Meanwhile, Malia takes long strides towards the Rig, using the threads in her legs as springs to catapult herself along the muck. Shrapnel and discarded artillery shells litter the path, like breadcrumbs left behind by her quarry.

Seems like this blob won't stop for anything, huh?

EVENTS:


Pierre: ”Rosa was chasing us. Other Rosas, I mean. They’re like ants, coming out of the woodwork to defend their nest. The winged ones are probably Rosas too.”

Anne: ”If this was the core, I doubt we’d still be solid. Fret not, we have plenty to suffer through yet!”

As you approach the bridge, one of the echoes looks up from its perch on Rosa’s back.


Echo: ”This... Looks like the old transmission tower, after we left the snow-covered valley.

I guess I shouldn’t have left that crow behind...”


The cloud of winged devils beckons, pitch-black wings closing upon you like a charcoal dome. Should you fight, or just try to speed on through?



______________________________



Meanwhile, Sally grits her teeth and gives Klimt a defeated shrug.

Sally: ”Sooner arr later. I jes’ hope I’m not too late.”



Malia decides to wait for a moment, and let the others catch up to her a bit. She looks around for anything of use, but little can be seen through the mist save for gigantic footprints and spent artillery shells.

EVENTS:

Anne shrugs, adjusting her glasses.


Anne: ”I don’t know if there’s a core. But the old man says there should be, and I don’t have any better plans. And, can’t you feel it? This... It’s like, gravity. A mad, crawling thing pulling down on the back of your mind, telling you to become one with this world, to forget yourself and add to the mass of this, this black hole of a being.

It’s getting louder with every mile we travel. You might have to shoot me yet, ma chèrie, before I end up listening to it.”


She turns back for a moment, a sad but annoyingly smug smile plastered on her face.

Anne: ”Oh, also - you’re saying you can’t summon bikes at will? Weak.”


A Rosa-faced harpy impacts the front of the sidecar, nearly pushing the bike off the bridge. Eigla quickly unsheathes her blade, but not before Pierre has stabbed his sword into the creature’s chest, pushing the still-shrieking monster off the edge and into the darkness below, as more avian forms swoop down at you.


Pierre: ”I think I’ll need a hand with these, oui? Unless you fancy finding out how deep that chasm goes!”



_____________________________


Malia turns on her feet, deciding that she should probably not try to face the giant monster without backup, or at the very least some snacks. She leaps back towards Klimt and Sally, wrapping her threads around the armored girl like a climbing harness.

Sally: ”Wait wha-“

Klimt is quick to understand her plan, and the two entwine their respective tendrils for added strength, before surging forwards with superhuman speed, dragging Sally along like a pair of sled dogs pulling a wrecking ball.

Despite the pirate captain’s surprise and profanity-laden protests as she rolls and bounces on the mud, the three of them practically glide across the windmill fields, leaving the other survivors far behind, and it is not long before the Rig itself comes into view.


Devastation reigns. The destroyed, still-twitching shells of armored vehicles and quadruped haulers are strewn about like discarded toys, and burning craters serve as testimony to the innumerable explosives fired. The Meatblob’s gargantuan form is now at the base of the Rig, below the minimum range of its many guns, and seems to be attempting to scale the structure. A few Dolls throw molotovs and bombs at it from the upper walkways, and teams of zombies and engineers pepper its feet with small arms fire, while attempting to fight back against the crawling flood of Eiglalings and Rosalings that fall out from the monster’s every orifice.


What will you do?