"the warpist".
He opened his eyes and blinked - his vision tinted a rusty color from the blood that bubbled out from his tear ducts, a side effect of what the Warpist had called "snapping shut the gap".
Garl stared into the hissing abyss that had torn a hole in his time, and opened the wound to the future. He rubbed his throbbing head - his brain boiling under the pressure of sights he wasn't meant to see.
The Warpist tapped his goggles and motioned for Garl to not break his line of site with the opening. "Just a little longer, just until you're about to die!" He screamed over the screaming wind that buffeted the two of them against the walls of the bone-lit hallway.
"I can't give that promise."
"You were meant to be a man, Garl! Now stare down the abyss!"
Tundra braced himself against an outcropping of skeletal remains and moved slowly into the middle of the passage. He could feel the blood streaking out of his eyes and away from his face - ripped into the vacuum behind them.
Through the portal he could see Delver-world, a ruinous landscape that was comprised of dull metal and steel. Giant, slowly pumping pistons exhaled totems of hot steam into the blackened sky and large block engines served as imposing fortresses - nestled on a wasteland of stitched and bruised organic waste.
"When you get to the other side," Shouted the Warpist. "remember to to find the Cyborg Exorcist!" He licked his lips for a moment. He saw that his words were falling beyond Garl who was a primitive man of purpose, not abstract thought. "The machine parts in the Vicar's mind have driven him to a ritualistic level of insanity - you'll need to disrupt the signals before you can even think of defeating him!"
Garl put his weight into the whirlwind and began to walk toward the portal. The Warpist put his gloved hand on the warrior's shoulder. Tundra looked to him.
"Aren't you going to ask me what happens if you don't make it back?" Asked Michael.
"No."
Garl stared into the hissing abyss that had torn a hole in his time, and opened the wound to the future. He rubbed his throbbing head - his brain boiling under the pressure of sights he wasn't meant to see.
The Warpist tapped his goggles and motioned for Garl to not break his line of site with the opening. "Just a little longer, just until you're about to die!" He screamed over the screaming wind that buffeted the two of them against the walls of the bone-lit hallway.
"I can't give that promise."
"You were meant to be a man, Garl! Now stare down the abyss!"
Tundra braced himself against an outcropping of skeletal remains and moved slowly into the middle of the passage. He could feel the blood streaking out of his eyes and away from his face - ripped into the vacuum behind them.
Through the portal he could see Delver-world, a ruinous landscape that was comprised of dull metal and steel. Giant, slowly pumping pistons exhaled totems of hot steam into the blackened sky and large block engines served as imposing fortresses - nestled on a wasteland of stitched and bruised organic waste.
"When you get to the other side," Shouted the Warpist. "remember to to find the Cyborg Exorcist!" He licked his lips for a moment. He saw that his words were falling beyond Garl who was a primitive man of purpose, not abstract thought. "The machine parts in the Vicar's mind have driven him to a ritualistic level of insanity - you'll need to disrupt the signals before you can even think of defeating him!"
Garl put his weight into the whirlwind and began to walk toward the portal. The Warpist put his gloved hand on the warrior's shoulder. Tundra looked to him.
"Aren't you going to ask me what happens if you don't make it back?" Asked Michael.
"No."