#emptyhollowthud

At first, things were great.  After a week or so of beating back the monsters that had come to call the former mining site home, the Hodunks had their new distillery up and running.  Hidden from the bandits and Zafords that might have troubled them, they’d tripled the output of their moonshine.  Without the Zafords providing competition, it hadn’t been long before the profits came rolling in.  Sure, there might have been a few cases of blindness and spontaneous combustion among their customers, but you can’t make an omelette without blowing up a few chickens.

The first sign of their coming doom had seemed a small thing.  Scratching - just scratching coming now and then from the walls and ceiling.  Joe-Bob and the others had figured it wasn’t anything more than a few stray varkids or crystalisks wandering back into their former territory.  Annoying, but nothing a few well-placed shotgun blasts couldn’t clear up.  It wasn’t until the ground began to swell and buck beneath his feet that Joe-Bob began to comprehend their peril.  

When the Rats emerged, it was like something out of a nightmare.  Quick, clever, clawed hands bursting up out of the earth to grab at their ankles and tear at their legs.  Knives and teeth, coordinated slaughter.  And that’s what it was - slaughter.  Dazed, Joe-Bob likened the dispatch of his fellows to chickens or hogs being prepared for butchering.  The Rats never sent for the gut or or anything that might harm the choicest pieces of meat.  It was throats and heads and other methods that left them mostly intact.  Having been spared the initial attack, Joe-Bob managed to gather his wits enough to make a break for the exit.  If he could get out into the open - get to their Runner - maybe he’d have a chance.  He didn’t hear the shambling gait of the tunnel occupant ahead of him at first, but the way it blotted out the light of the exit and the horrific, acrid smell of it hit him hard.  Stunned, he staggered to a stop, thunderstruck at the misshapen creature before him.  It raised one grossly elongated arm, pointing at him with a gnarled finger as it hissed in a discordant voice.

“Witnessss the void...”

Something caught a tuft of Joe-Bob’s hair, yanking his head backward roughly.  He hardly had time to register the blade at his throat before it bit into his skin; hard, cold, and red.

* * *

 “This looks like the place.”

Maya pulled the Runner to a stop, climbing out and looking up to Krieg.