Uthorrad, Inner City: Residential Bloc 77G

 

    The dark-haired man slowed, at the sounds of an altercation down a nearby alleyway.
    The sergeant grabbed his arm, and the man stumbled as the direction of his steps abruptly changed.
    “Keep moving,” the sergeant murmured.
    “But—”
    “Not our concern. These streets aren’t safe, and we need to get to somewhere we can hold up until daylight.”
    “But they could be hurt, and—”
    “And they could be beast men quarreling. Until we come along to remind them of who their real enemy is.”
    “But—”
    “No ‘buts.’ We move on.”
    “It’s not right.” There was a hint of steel in the dark-haired man’s voice.
    “No, it isn’t,” the sergeant agreed, “it’s war.”

    They pressed onward, reaching the dark-haired man’s quarters on the third floor of a typical middle-income housing bloc shortly before midnight.
    The night, however, was anything but restful. Far from it, it was as though the city sat in the midst of a great thunderstorm. But there was no rain, just a roar of distant and not-so-distant explosions, and flash after flash, as bright as— sometimes brighter than— the noonday’s sun. Each followed by a wash of heat, and a screaming wind that threatened to shatter the panes of glass in the windows. With each strike of the monumental lightning, the ground shook, which transmitted up through the building, which seemed unable to decide whether it wanted to shake itself, or sway from side to side, walls and floors and ceilings creaking and groaning like the wakened dead.

(2♠︎) Groggy, grainy-eyed, they gathered up their packs, the dark-haired man hurriedly putting together a duffel. The materials in his box he threw into a sturdy leather satchel, adding a few memory-keep slices of readingglass after a moment’s thought. Last thing before they left, he rummaged through the cloak cupboard, slinging a bolt-action long-arm over is other shoulder, and tossing a half-full box of shells into his duffel.
    It took the sergeant’s shoulder to get the door to budge, and they were greeted by a muted, steely light filtering through vast cracks in the overhead glassteel dome that enclosed the Inner City. A fine, dusty powder drifted from between those cracks, floating down, spiraling like snow that never fell in the sealed cityscape.
    The sergeant fished a kerchief from one of the pockets of his uniform, and tied it over his mouth and nose. The corporal and the dark-haired man did likewise, after sharing an astonished look at the state of the weather-that-should-not-be.

Role Call: "Lance"

 

Kilian Gunnarsson actually got a few years into his studies at Blackmoor University before the Imperial Defense Forces draft caught up to him.

Since then he has been pushed through initial training, and served mostly in the rearguards, pushing paperwork and making sure supplies were routed to their proper locations.

Kilian knew the city's days were numbered when CenCom sent his unit was to the Inner City to facilitate the garrison with breakdown and evacuation.

He did not expect them to pull the plug on the Lightning Road, stranding him there with the last of the garrison, and remaining residents...

Escape from Uthorrad

 

    Uthorrad, Inner City; Public Lightning Road Terminus 22:20

(2♠︎)The streets outside the Lightning Road terminus were empty… at least, as far as the men could tell. Thick fog settled in, obscuring everything more than a few strides away. Fighting could be heard, but between the muffling effect of the mists, and echoes off the buildings…. It was hard to tell if it was down the next block, or halfway across the city.

Role Call: "Doc"

 Professor Viktor Markhov taught history at Blackoor University, before taking a sabbatical to study beast man ruins in the Borean Valley of the far western continent.

    It was because of his familiarity with the beast man culture, as well as the history of the Empire that the siege and eventual fall of Uthorrad did not come as any surprise to the professor.

    He did not, however, think that he would actually be in the city when it happened...

Uthorrad, Inner City

 

Another tremor caused the door leading from the stairwell into the facility’s ground floor to rattle in its frame.
    “Behind me, Doc,” the sergeant said, and the dark-haired man and the corporal traded positions, the younger man reaching for the door’s handle.

 

“…. Lightning Road transit is offline: Do not expect reinforcements. If you survived the Sunfire bombardment, and you have any luck left, you’ll need it: You’re on your own. The Empire will not forget your sacrifice. Message repeats….”

New Year's Resolution? Not quite 4K

 Apparently there was a lot of talk about "Dungeon '23" going on on the Internet lately. Something about megadungeons and hundreds of rooms and creativity.