The Assault
They have been waiting. It is not like them, but they have had to learn and change and evolve since coming here, and so they have adapted to the world around them. When they came here, things changed, their world changed, and they changed with this new life. They grew accustomed to it, they learned the ways of this new world, and for them, life was good.
But then others came, big and small, men and women, little ones even. People. Humans, mostly. And things began to change again, so they waited and watched, letting these newcomers go about their business as they pleased. They saw what they did, saw how they acted, and saw them begin to grow accustomed to their surroundings.
But now they are done with waiting. Now they are acting.
They are tired of these newcomers.
They have been moving, gathering, preparing. Their numbers are greater than those of the newcomers, and this they plan to use. They have not been very subtle in their movements; the sound of their claws scraping against the ceilings and roofs and walls, always staying out of view, but rarely out of mind. But today, they have been silent.
As night falls and all becomes dark, the attack begins.
They do not come from one direction, one source; instead they seem to be everywhere, bursting from thin walls or dropping from ceiling, skittering down walls or leaping to street level from rooftops. Some pause to let loose glass-shattering shrieks, violent screams, while others simply race forwards, in search of prey.
They are not very large; about the side of a chimp, or a child, on all fours. Their skin is a sickly pale color, all sinewy muscle, built for speed. Their heads are not human, their teeth sharp, eyes dark. They have dark armor that covers their chests and forearms, and their fingers end in sharp, pointed claws. They are hunters, plain and simple.
And as they race through Eden, they all know that they have prey to catch.
But then others came, big and small, men and women, little ones even. People. Humans, mostly. And things began to change again, so they waited and watched, letting these newcomers go about their business as they pleased. They saw what they did, saw how they acted, and saw them begin to grow accustomed to their surroundings.
But now they are done with waiting. Now they are acting.
They are tired of these newcomers.
They have been moving, gathering, preparing. Their numbers are greater than those of the newcomers, and this they plan to use. They have not been very subtle in their movements; the sound of their claws scraping against the ceilings and roofs and walls, always staying out of view, but rarely out of mind. But today, they have been silent.
As night falls and all becomes dark, the attack begins.
They do not come from one direction, one source; instead they seem to be everywhere, bursting from thin walls or dropping from ceiling, skittering down walls or leaping to street level from rooftops. Some pause to let loose glass-shattering shrieks, violent screams, while others simply race forwards, in search of prey.
They are not very large; about the side of a chimp, or a child, on all fours. Their skin is a sickly pale color, all sinewy muscle, built for speed. Their heads are not human, their teeth sharp, eyes dark. They have dark armor that covers their chests and forearms, and their fingers end in sharp, pointed claws. They are hunters, plain and simple.
And as they race through Eden, they all know that they have prey to catch.