[Risska] - TSW - Under the Boardwalk, Down by the Sea
“Let it down gently now!” Risska called up the ladder, her voice muffled by the mask she was using to cover her mouth and nose. A faint circle of illumination from the sewer opening up above her was enough for her to see by for now, at least.
From above her she could hear Landa grunting with effort as she shifted the large, heavy bag into position. For a moment the blackness nearly swallowed Risska up. She shifted her stance, feet wide to keep herself steady as she held her arms up for the slowly descending duffel bag.
“Are you ready for it?” Landa asked, strain evident in her voice as she worked to keep a good grip on the bag.
“Drop it,” Risska said. The last few feet seemed to take an eternity as the smaller woman up above released the bag. Risska’s breath caught in her throat and her stomach roiled as it dropped. She knew the volatile explosives inside would likely blow her and Landa both to bits if the bag hit the ground. She caught the bag and cradled it in her arms, letting out a relieved sigh.
Landa peered carefully down into the sewer. “Am I clear to come down?” she asked.
“We’re goo-“ Risska’s voice was cut off abruptly with a sudden cry of alarm and a splash.
Landa hissed at the sound, her body tensing. She jumped onto the ladder and slid down into the darkness, the green glow of chaos magic surrounding her hands and illuminating the sewer tunnel.
Risska was sitting in the canal, about four inches of various liquids pooled around her, the bag held up carefully.
Landa’s fists clenched. “Dammit, Risska! Be careful with that, I’d rather not get blown up today.” She took in a breath and then grimaced, pulling her mask up over her face to block out the smell.
Risska nodded. “Slipped on a shitting piece of slime or something,” she said. “This thing’s heavy, give me a hand with it?” She choked as she spoke, although that might have been from the smell. Her mask had slipped down to her neck, and her expression was stuck between anger and disgust.
“Fine, but don’t expect me to help you get cleaned off after,” Landa replied, moving carefully down the slanted sides of the canal and taking the bag from her friend. She gritted her teeth as she lifted it back to the walkway at the side, setting it carefully down on the cement floor.
The only response was a string of curses in German as the larger woman pulled herself out of the sewer water and climbed up the side next to her friend. Risska settled her mask back into place, opened the bag and rummaged around in it. She pulled out a few slender white rods, bending them in her hands and then shaking them until they started to glow a dim red, illuminating the dim passageway. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
Landa nodded and started to head down the passageway, annoyance clear on her face, with Risska following behind holding the bag. They trudged on in silence for what felt like a long time, both of them tense and listening for the groans and shuffling that would herald a cluster of zombies. The salty smell of seawater and decay that normally meant draug were close by hung thick around them in the darkness.
“Over there looks good,” Landa said, pointing to a small island in the center of the canal.
Risska nodded in agreement. They’d waited for a day when it hadn’t rained in a while, to make sure that they wouldn’t get washed away by the water that otherwise would be draining out through the sewers. The small trickle of wastewater that flowed now provided no difficulty.
“Here,” Risska said, tossing Landa a pair of the glow sticks. She set up a few others around the edges of the island, the glow of magic and the sticks together providing a good amount of light. They’d planned this for a while, and so there was little need for them to discuss things. Risska would set the explosives and arm them while Landa kept watch for enemies.
“Jeg kan lukte dem, brødre!”
Landa and Risska both froze. They knew what the deep, gargling voice meant.
“Time to go,” Landa said. She lifted her hands, pulling her body into the fighting stance that she’d practiced for so long. “Are you done?”
Risska grunted and shook her head, attention still fixed on the growing cluster of explosives. Sweat had begun pouring down her face as she worked. “Just a bit longer,” she muttered quietly.
More gurgling voices began to join the first. Landa hurled the glow sticks in her hands out into the darkness; they illuminated the advancing draug. Their dead skin glistening with slime, the faces slack and expressionless. One of them raised the massive, bony protrusion on the end of its arm and bellowed a war cry, rushing forward.
The sharp cracks of gunfire echoed in the tunnel as Landa drew her pistol and opened fire. The undead monstrosity staggered back a few steps, its shout interrupted as the impact of the bullets drove the air out of its body. The heavy thud and splash as it hit the ground spurred the others to action. Landa’s gunfire was drowned out by the battle-shouts coming from the undead berserkers rushing toward her. She fired until the clip was empty; with the advancing draug too close to reload, she quickly put the pistol away and raised her fists. Green light flared, flickering off the sewer walls as it coalesced into claws.
The draug moved unnaturally fast, their arms transformed into the weapons they wielded. Some of them jabbed at her with spiraled, sharpened horns where their hands should have been, while others swung heavy, spiked club-arms.
They were centuries-old warriors. In life, they had been unstoppable conquerors, and in death, no less. Their bodies remembered the swing of their weapons and the sound of crushing bone and flesh. The bare-handed woman facing them simply fought. She did not have inhuman speed, and should have been crushed by the first blow. Yet she never seemed to be where their weapons struck. Their spears and clubs chipped and cracked against the cement wall of the sewer tunnel. Landa’s strikes always seemed to find some weakness; sometimes old bone that had broken away, causing the leg to snap in two and the rotted, weakened flesh to slough away, or sometimes the perfect spot to push an enemy into one of his allies’ attacks.
Yet still, she was human. Fatigue began to wear at her, their attacks missing by slimmer margins. Finally one of them connected with a blow that, although glancing, was enough to send her into the wall with a cry of pain. She pushed away; still trying to avoid the attacks that she knew would be coming, when suddenly a new voice echoed through the tunnel.
“You are so beautiful…to meeeeee-“ came the song from the island. The split second of hesitation among the draug was enough for Landa to recover. She rolled away as the lead draug turned back toward her. Ssuddenly a large, dark blur slammed into it, Risska’s claws slashing and tearing at the creature in a rapid flurry before she leapt away.
“Move!” she shouted. Landa needed no encouragement; the two of them dashed down the tunnel, leaving the lurching and roaring draug behind. The women didn’t slow; they knew the loud music would likely attract more of the monsters. They’d planned on it, in fact, and set the music as both bait and fuse for their trap.
They covered the distance in a quarter of the time it had taken them to get down there, and on reaching the ladder they didn’t stop. Riska slammed down the cover on the manhole behind them just as a sudden rumble shook the street, followed by a dull roar from below. The manhole cover shivered, hot air erupting from beneath it in a rush.
Risska laughed loudly and pulled Landa in for a bear hug. “You did great,” she said, ruffling her hair with a muck-stained hand.
Landa stiffened as Risska hugged her, then relaxed, a small smile creeping onto her face. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Come on, let’s get you clean.”
From above her she could hear Landa grunting with effort as she shifted the large, heavy bag into position. For a moment the blackness nearly swallowed Risska up. She shifted her stance, feet wide to keep herself steady as she held her arms up for the slowly descending duffel bag.
“Are you ready for it?” Landa asked, strain evident in her voice as she worked to keep a good grip on the bag.
“Drop it,” Risska said. The last few feet seemed to take an eternity as the smaller woman up above released the bag. Risska’s breath caught in her throat and her stomach roiled as it dropped. She knew the volatile explosives inside would likely blow her and Landa both to bits if the bag hit the ground. She caught the bag and cradled it in her arms, letting out a relieved sigh.
Landa peered carefully down into the sewer. “Am I clear to come down?” she asked.
“We’re goo-“ Risska’s voice was cut off abruptly with a sudden cry of alarm and a splash.
Landa hissed at the sound, her body tensing. She jumped onto the ladder and slid down into the darkness, the green glow of chaos magic surrounding her hands and illuminating the sewer tunnel.
Risska was sitting in the canal, about four inches of various liquids pooled around her, the bag held up carefully.
Landa’s fists clenched. “Dammit, Risska! Be careful with that, I’d rather not get blown up today.” She took in a breath and then grimaced, pulling her mask up over her face to block out the smell.
Risska nodded. “Slipped on a shitting piece of slime or something,” she said. “This thing’s heavy, give me a hand with it?” She choked as she spoke, although that might have been from the smell. Her mask had slipped down to her neck, and her expression was stuck between anger and disgust.
“Fine, but don’t expect me to help you get cleaned off after,” Landa replied, moving carefully down the slanted sides of the canal and taking the bag from her friend. She gritted her teeth as she lifted it back to the walkway at the side, setting it carefully down on the cement floor.
The only response was a string of curses in German as the larger woman pulled herself out of the sewer water and climbed up the side next to her friend. Risska settled her mask back into place, opened the bag and rummaged around in it. She pulled out a few slender white rods, bending them in her hands and then shaking them until they started to glow a dim red, illuminating the dim passageway. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
Landa nodded and started to head down the passageway, annoyance clear on her face, with Risska following behind holding the bag. They trudged on in silence for what felt like a long time, both of them tense and listening for the groans and shuffling that would herald a cluster of zombies. The salty smell of seawater and decay that normally meant draug were close by hung thick around them in the darkness.
“Over there looks good,” Landa said, pointing to a small island in the center of the canal.
Risska nodded in agreement. They’d waited for a day when it hadn’t rained in a while, to make sure that they wouldn’t get washed away by the water that otherwise would be draining out through the sewers. The small trickle of wastewater that flowed now provided no difficulty.
“Here,” Risska said, tossing Landa a pair of the glow sticks. She set up a few others around the edges of the island, the glow of magic and the sticks together providing a good amount of light. They’d planned this for a while, and so there was little need for them to discuss things. Risska would set the explosives and arm them while Landa kept watch for enemies.
“Jeg kan lukte dem, brødre!”
Landa and Risska both froze. They knew what the deep, gargling voice meant.
“Time to go,” Landa said. She lifted her hands, pulling her body into the fighting stance that she’d practiced for so long. “Are you done?”
Risska grunted and shook her head, attention still fixed on the growing cluster of explosives. Sweat had begun pouring down her face as she worked. “Just a bit longer,” she muttered quietly.
More gurgling voices began to join the first. Landa hurled the glow sticks in her hands out into the darkness; they illuminated the advancing draug. Their dead skin glistening with slime, the faces slack and expressionless. One of them raised the massive, bony protrusion on the end of its arm and bellowed a war cry, rushing forward.
The sharp cracks of gunfire echoed in the tunnel as Landa drew her pistol and opened fire. The undead monstrosity staggered back a few steps, its shout interrupted as the impact of the bullets drove the air out of its body. The heavy thud and splash as it hit the ground spurred the others to action. Landa’s gunfire was drowned out by the battle-shouts coming from the undead berserkers rushing toward her. She fired until the clip was empty; with the advancing draug too close to reload, she quickly put the pistol away and raised her fists. Green light flared, flickering off the sewer walls as it coalesced into claws.
The draug moved unnaturally fast, their arms transformed into the weapons they wielded. Some of them jabbed at her with spiraled, sharpened horns where their hands should have been, while others swung heavy, spiked club-arms.
They were centuries-old warriors. In life, they had been unstoppable conquerors, and in death, no less. Their bodies remembered the swing of their weapons and the sound of crushing bone and flesh. The bare-handed woman facing them simply fought. She did not have inhuman speed, and should have been crushed by the first blow. Yet she never seemed to be where their weapons struck. Their spears and clubs chipped and cracked against the cement wall of the sewer tunnel. Landa’s strikes always seemed to find some weakness; sometimes old bone that had broken away, causing the leg to snap in two and the rotted, weakened flesh to slough away, or sometimes the perfect spot to push an enemy into one of his allies’ attacks.
Yet still, she was human. Fatigue began to wear at her, their attacks missing by slimmer margins. Finally one of them connected with a blow that, although glancing, was enough to send her into the wall with a cry of pain. She pushed away; still trying to avoid the attacks that she knew would be coming, when suddenly a new voice echoed through the tunnel.
“You are so beautiful…to meeeeee-“ came the song from the island. The split second of hesitation among the draug was enough for Landa to recover. She rolled away as the lead draug turned back toward her. Ssuddenly a large, dark blur slammed into it, Risska’s claws slashing and tearing at the creature in a rapid flurry before she leapt away.
“Move!” she shouted. Landa needed no encouragement; the two of them dashed down the tunnel, leaving the lurching and roaring draug behind. The women didn’t slow; they knew the loud music would likely attract more of the monsters. They’d planned on it, in fact, and set the music as both bait and fuse for their trap.
They covered the distance in a quarter of the time it had taken them to get down there, and on reaching the ladder they didn’t stop. Riska slammed down the cover on the manhole behind them just as a sudden rumble shook the street, followed by a dull roar from below. The manhole cover shivered, hot air erupting from beneath it in a rush.
Risska laughed loudly and pulled Landa in for a bear hug. “You did great,” she said, ruffling her hair with a muck-stained hand.
Landa stiffened as Risska hugged her, then relaxed, a small smile creeping onto her face. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Come on, let’s get you clean.”