Charting a Path


7/9/20232 min read

As I broke away from Fitt and Chef, I ventured into the upper levels, leaving behind the dimly lit lower tunnels that reeked of decay and hidden terror. The faint, luminescent green light from bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls led the way, casting long, sinister shadows.

The transformation was immediate and startling. It wasn't simply an underground base or a crude set of tunnels. It was a lived-in space, replete with an unsettling domesticity that bore the indelible mark of the inhabitants' horrific lifestyle.

I moved with a cat's stealth, my senses alert for any signs of movement. Rooms were set out in a maze-like pattern, each one serving a different, terrifying purpose. A space filled with rusted but sharp tools, hung meticulously on the walls, sent a chill down my spine. The sight of hooks, knives, and cleavers of all shapes and sizes hinted at the unspeakable horrors that had taken place in the room.

Another chamber was filled with large, seemingly communal sleeping areas. The floor was littered with straw mattresses, stained and worn with use. The distinct scent of unwashed bodies hung heavy in the air. It was a startling contrast to the individualistic human societies I was used to, speaking volumes about the communal, almost hive-like structure of these cannibalistic beings.

There was a large, open space that appeared to be a dining hall. The long, crude wooden table stretching out in the center was littered with bones - a testament to the terrifying fate of their victims. For a moment, I froze, staring at the morbid banquet scene. I had to remind myself why I was there and forced myself to move on.

I discovered a room filled with what looked like trophies, each one more chilling than the last. I saw items that seemed to be personal belongings - wallets, datapads, even children's toys. My heart sank as I realized these were likely mementos of their meals. Their victims weren’t anonymous; they were people with lives, with families who might still be waiting for them.

As I ventured further, I found myself in what appeared to be a classroom. The sight was almost surreal, with a chalkboard filled with undecipherable symbols, and tables and chairs haphazardly arranged. The unsettling part was the diagrams I found, drawings that seemed to depict human anatomy, like an eerie mockery of biology lessons.

What struck me most was the seeming normalcy of the life they led above the gruesome layers. They had homes, community spaces, and, in their grotesque way, an education system. It was as if they had carved out their own twisted society underground, mirroring the world they preyed upon.

After what felt like hours, I finally discovered a staircase, concealed behind a tapestry of dried plants. With my heart pounding in my chest, I climbed the stairs, pushing open the heavy door at the top. Fresh air rushed into my lungs, tainted with the stench of the town. The quiet was haunting, a stark reminder of the deadly secret beneath this seemingly deserted town.

As the door closed behind me, I couldn’t shake off the eeriness of what I had just witnessed. Yet, with every gruesome sight, my resolve hardened. Fitt, Chef, and I were in this together. And somehow, we were going to get out of this nightmare. And these cannibals? They had no idea who they were dealing with.