<html> <head> <style></style> </head> <body class='hmmessage'> Day 6, June 4th 703 CR  Cursing at rotten luck and the universe in general, Zyn scowled at the retreating forms of the crabs as in the distance they scampered back to the protective covering of the ocean, his spear wedged into the sand ineffectually ten feet away.  It was an understatement to say that it was a bad day.  The entire group was a hair’s breadth away from pissing their pants at any moment.  As Zyn fruitlessly hunted for crab they were relocating the camp out from the interior position they had selected days before, moving everything to the large neck of land that jutted out a healthy fifty yards or from the main portion of the island.  The whole thing was made of sand and Zyn was not entirely convinced that a really high tide wouldn’t just sweep them all away.   He hated this island.  Truly.  Deeply.  To the core; he hated it.  The whole thing was a rotten cesspit where he was doomed to waste the remainder of his life (however long that might be) to squating around, hunting fleeing crabs, sucking on coconuts and listening to that idiot Pols bitch about everything under the sun.  He was doomed to put up with a group of idiotic sailors that had piloted the ship that had sent them to this speck of rock well beyond the middle of nowhere.  So what if the captain had been overbearing and tried to run everything into the ground, that didn’t absolve these idiots of responsibility; they were the crew, they were just as responsible for plunging headlong off course as that puss bag of a captain was.   Not to mention that some of them were abject fools, not least of which was that buffoon Pols.  If that insufferable shit cast another smug look at him he was going to be injured in the face, end of story.  The fat mage was next to worthless; aside from (barely) being able to cast fire spells, Parn merely served to consume food and patience, and Zyn was increasingly feeling that he was worth neither.  Grumiah simply played the “aloof fearless leader” role which in a group of merely six seemed rather superfluous.  If they were going to live on this cursed speck on the map for many years if not the rest of their lives and have to deal with each other (Heaven forbid that), such posturing actually seemed rather idiotic.  What was he going to do, keep up the pointless façade until his hair fell out and had lived with his fellows longer than he had lived with his parents in his childhood?  Lorian was certain to make himself a pain in the ass; with no Business to teach Zyn or even anywhere new to take him the one armed fool would no doubt increasingly take to lecture Zyn on the finer pointless points of living on a speck of an island with a total population of six clueless cast aways.  Out of all of them Lum seemed the only one without any glaring flaws, but that was probably only because Zyn hadn’t gotten to know him very well yet.  Everyone had their flaws, everyone.  He was stuck here to contemplate a thrice damned curse that saw fit to screw with them, taunt them before probably ending their pathetic lives in as slow and painful a fashion possible.  All it had to do was wait for sundown, then crawl out of its hole and haunt the place and send them all screaming into the ocean, which in and of itself would be no less of a death, and not just for reasons of exposure as they had been in danger of in their days drifting helplessly across the ocean.  No, Zyn had seen things in the water, and not just that of fleeing crabs.  There was something serious down there; big serious things lurking under the surface.  Nor was he alone in spotting such fleeting phantoms.  The others had caught glimpses as well, though none of them could tell if they were just ordinary fish or not.  Zyn sure as hell didn’t think so.  This whole place was purposefully set up to drive him out of his tiny mind.  Seriously, that’s what it was for.  As if his endless contemplations and broodings floating solo in the middle of the ocean weren’t enough.  Now instead of waiting to just sit (or float rather) and wait to die of exposure now he had the pleasure of twiddling his thumbs on a beach and wait for some evil curse to evict him from the mortal world.  In a perverse way the death he had faced on the ocean actually seemed preferable to the pitiful life he’d have by remaining here.  He thought nothing of the plans the others had concocted to escape; they were all ludicrous; none of them would successfully even get them past the coral reefs!  There was only a slow, draining insipid life to be had on this island.   In the end of his ordeal of trying to catch some crabs, Zyn finally caught two stragglers who by some quirk of fate were not caught up in the unnaturally punctual shelter seeking behavior right as the cast aways came along.  Out of proportion to capturing the two crabs out of the dozens that had slipped away Zyn crowed and beat his chest, screaming himself hoarse in triumph.   Prizes in hand, the conquering hero strutted from the beach in such a blissful state that didn’t notice one of his trophies wiggle its claw free and clamp down on its captor’s finger.  A chaotic dance and tumble ensued, with Zyn shaking his arm vigorously enough to shake it off his body entirely while his crustacean tormentor retained its iron grip on his pinkie.   No doubt still fearful of the curse that had haunted them the previous night, Lorian, Pols and Lum charged out of the brush, apprehension written on their face at the prospect of facing a great unknown evil only to find Zyn screaming, shrieking and hopping around trying to dislodge a crab from his left pinkie.  The result was what could be expected; they laughed their damn heads off.  Even Lorian looked as though he would fall over, to say nothing of the two sailors.   At last shaking the crustacean loose, Zyn stared angrily.  “What, you think that’s nothing?  Do you have any idea how much that hurts!?”   As expected, Zyn received no sympathy, only mocking imitations and mimicking screams and wails.   Seething, Zyn chucked the crab that had not deigned to cause him pain flying strait at Pols’ ugly face.  The stupid whore-lover barely had time to react as the crustacean smacked into him.  Thrusting his hands up reflexively, he was rewarded an instant later by the crustacean clamping down on his thumb.  Now it was Zyn’s turn to laugh, and laugh he did as Pols let out a cry of pain and a frantic dance of his own trying to remove his crabby tormentor.  The taste of justice delivered didn’t last long as the short sailor snatched the crab off his thumb and promptly marched up straight into Zyn’s face.  In one instant all signs of civility and cooperation were gone, and the two of them stared at each other, tense and ready to strike.   For his part Zyn didn’t say anything, he just projected himself into his opponent’s eyes, pushing with all his might in a contest of wills; Pols however would not back down either.   The others of course immediately stepped in, seeking to defuse the smoldering tension.  “Alright you two, let’s not do anything stupid,” Lorian said while Lum tried to pull his pal back from the brink.   “Stupid?” Pols said derisively, “The only one stupid here is this arrogant little bastard.”  “Yeah,” Zyn shot back, “I suppose you’d know all about stupid, wouldn’t you?”  Pols was about to respond but then Lum rather forcefully pulled him back.  Laughing, Zyn moved in to exploit Pols’ forced hand.  “Besides, what’s wrong with some more crabs in addition to those you already have?”  That, however, proved to be the breaking point and not even Lum could stop his friend from pushing himself loose and once again closing the distance between Zyn’s face and his own to an inch.  “You might wanna keep watch over your mouth, landlubber, you’ve already let loose a couple wrong ideas as it is.”  Zyn’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed hatefully.  “Go to Hell.”  The next instant Pols swung his shoulder back to throw a punch aimed at decking Zyn, who saw it coming but not being terribly experienced in fistfights was only able to partially avoid it, resulting in his being caught on the left corner of his jaw.  Predictably he wasn’t prepared for this sort of thing and his world was sent spinning in a collage of lights and pain, with his only measure of fighting back the wild swinging of his arms, one of which happened to swing low and catch Pols in the groin.  Stunned for a moment by the agony such a hit would obviously cause, Pols didn’t immediately strike back, and Zyn didn’t wallow too much in his lucky shot.  His disorientation had cleared enough that he rushed the short sailor again and slugged him.  Incredibly, however, Pols managed to recover almost instantly and plowed into Zyn, knocking both of them over into the sand.  The fight’s sudden onset must have taken the others by surprise, but by now their common sense had had enough time to return as Lorian and Lum descended upon them like hawks and pried them away from each other’s grasp.  How on earth Lorian could pull him away with his one arm was a mystery that was by no means new to Zyn, but the mere fact that it was so infuriated him, and he let his eyes do the talking to his mentor for dragging him away from the fight.  His venomous gaze was rewarded by a pounding blow from Lorian.  And not his good arm, but the stubbed limb ending above the wrist that was his right one.  To this day Zyn did not know how it was lost, but he was acquainted with it regardless as it slammed into the side of his face.  It wasn’t powerful enough to knock him over; it probably hadn’t intended to have been so.  Lorian had meant it to remind him of certain things.   The two exchanged a war of words in that very instant with their eyes, but of course it was Zyn who lost, though begrudgingly so.  Trying his utmost to control himself, he pushed himself past Lorian’s crushing presence and saw Lum in a heated discussion with Pols.  The two sailors were whispering, but it could hardly hide the fire they were exchanging with each other.  But they were peers who had to deal with each other, the same as it was with Lorian and Zyn.  Lorian was the master and both he and Zyn knew it perfectly well.  He didn’t bother giving Pols a parting glance that would only serve to start another fight.  Zyn stormed off and let the fools to pick up the crabs themselves, to see if they could avoid having their fingers clamped down on.  He listened behind him as he marched off, paying attention for any sudden screams or whatnot as they made light of his pain, but was met only with frustrating silence.   He putzed around for some time, not really setting out to do anything constructive, when he bumped, literally, into Grumiah.  Startled, and swearing that the grizzled quartermaster must have literally come out of nowhere as Zyn had not seen or heard him coming, he backed off and cursed.  “Crap, Grumiah.  What the pagan hells is this with you popping up out of the blue like that?”  Grumiah responded by doing something very strange; he smiled.  “Nothing, just scouting around,” he said pleasantly.  Zyn blinked and looked over the quartermaster cautiously, noting his awkward (which being relaxed was quite awkward for him) stance, his odd smile, and the downright creepy glint in his eyes.  “Uh, you ok?” Zyn asked, trying to subdue the unease in his voice.  “Nope,” came the totally unexpected reply.  Now thoughts of hauntings or at the very least hallucinogenic mushrooms rushed through Zyn’s head.   “...What... what’s the matter then?”  “Nothing at all.”  Zyn just looked at Grumiah who was still boring into him with those damn creepy eyes, looking like he had just escaped from a madhouse or something.  “Then why aren’t you alright?”  “Well, that’s just the thing,” Grumiah declared, and without warning snapped around and marched away.  Too stupefied to follow, Zyn just stood there with his mouth hanging open like he wanted to catch flies.   Very belatedly, he came to his senses and called out, “Grumiah!” only to receive silence in return.  “Grumiah!” he shouted again, and set off after the quartermaster.  His search was rewarded only by a good ten minutes of hunting aimlessly through the brush with no sign of the very peculiar acting Grumiah.  Just what was up with him?  Zyn hoped that it didn’t have to do with the ethereal happenings on this island, though he couldn’t avoid it as the most logical conclusion.  Shaking his head, Zyn gave up on his fruitless search and made his way back to camp.   Looking up he saw that the sun was now completely obscured by cloud cover, cover that was thickening by the minute leading him to wonder if a storm was coming.  Great, that would just make things perfectly fine and dandy. * * *    “This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”  This of course prompted the predictable groan from Zyn’s fellows as they hoisted supplies down the beach.  “You’ve said that already,” Lorian muttered.  “Whoopty freaking doo.  The high tide’s gonna come swamp us at the middle of the night and drown us while we’re sleeping,” Zyn complained, pointing out the painfully obvious fact that in their new found phobia of the island they were now preparing to spend the night on the open beach, a small peninsula of sand that thrust out from the bulk of the island; a strip of land that looked seriously exposed and vulnerable to the tides.  The others just groaned and shook their heads in response, though Grumiah seemed to ignore the whole thing.  Zyn, of course, had been watching Grumiah ever since their brief encounter earlier but, curiously enough, the quartermaster didn’t seem to know a thing about it.  Zyn didn’t know what was going on, but deliberately did not elaborate on his encounter in front of the others; they were already spooked enough as it was.  Unspoken tension hung in the air as the overcast sky became darker and darker, heralding the coming night, and all they could do was huddle helplessly by the edge of the beach.  There’d be no confronting this evil, no resolving anything as darkness came with the night.  None of them could do anything; Zyn couldn’t do anything.  Somewhere further down the beach Parn managed to slip something up and tumbled to the ground face first.  What under other circumstances would send the rowdy sailors roaring in laughter merely roused a meager chuckle.  Zyn just scowled.  At that moment Pols returned from whatever it was that he’d been doing (taking a dump probably) back to camp, except he was whistling.  Giving him an odd look, Zyn stared at the squat sailor.  Lum caught the sight too.  “Imagining a having a whorehouse?”  Pols shrugged.  “Eh, about,” he answered but didn’t say anything more and got to work helping the others.  All seemed well and good, or at least as well and good as could be given the setting and circumstances when Zyn saw someone else approaching the camp.  This was odd, considering that all six of them were already present.  It became [i]really[/i] odd when Zyn looked and saw that it was Pols, a very shocked looking Pols, staring at... well, another Pols.  Zyn snapped his head back, examining the other Pols who had arrived just a few minutes earlier.  “Wait, what the hell?” Lum exclaimed as he noticed as well.   Awkward silence descended and no one moved for the longest time.  Then, Zyn declared, “maybe we should just clobber them both, figure out who’s real after we’ve beat the snot out of them.”  Both Pols sneered at that comment, before they glared at each other with harsh but also slightly terrified eyes.  “Just what the hell are you?” the first Pols, the one who had been with the group when the second showed up, asked.  “Me?” the second asked incredulously, “The stupid doppelganger asks who the real person is?”  The absurdity of the scene stumped even Grumiah.  “So which one is the real Pols?”  “I am!” came the predictable duel response.  Zyn sighed.  “Well that gets us somewhere.”  “They both seem to have the same agreeable disposition,” Lorian commented.  “Whichever one is the fake is doing a real good job imitating the real one.”  “But I’m me!” the first Pols declared.  “Shut up you lying abomination!” the second Pols shouted, “no one calls this ugly mug their own but me!”  This comment, despite the situation, caused Zyn to chuckle that Pols would admit such a thing.  “Shut up, landlubber!” they both shouted at him derisively.  “Alright then, Lum,” the second Pols said.  “You remember that time in Prekan?  I walked in and scored it big with that great looking wench and-“  “-and you got yourself busted up real good when you kicked the bartender’s dog?” the second finished, though as if he we speaking to a ghost.  The second Pols’ eyes shot wide.  “How did you know that?”  “Me?  How did [i]you[/i] know about Prekan?” the first asked.  “Well then,” Grumiah jumped in.  “Lum, you know him pretty well right?”  Upon the sailor’s nod, Lorian continued.  “You know more details?  Good.  Pols, both of you, start talking about more obscure details.”  “But... they did just that,” Parn pointed out.  “Get them to divulge even more.  At some point the fake will slip up on something and we’ll know.”  Clearing his throat, Lorian had his hand with the developing mess.  “I think that would miss the point.  How could the fake know of a story that only Pols and Lum knew from years back in the first place?  It could only be done with extensive and penetrating magics.”  Zyn quickly caught on.  “Meaning that if something like that was used once it could be used again just as easily.  They could tell a thousand stories and the doppelganger could know them just as well as the real Pols.”  The first Pols shuddered.  “I [i]really[/i] don’t like the idea that this fake is swimming around in my head.”  “Look who’s talking you demon,” the second shot back.  “Monstrosity!” the first shouted.  “Shut up ya ghost!” the second fired back. “I’ve had it up to here with your cursed antics!” he said and promptly charged the first.   The two Pols disintegrated into a chaotic jumble of limbs as they each tried to punch and wrestle the other to the ground.  Zyn looked at the others but no one, not even Lorian, had a clue just what they should do, so they all just stood there dumbfounded as the two Pols beat the crap out of each other.   One of the Pols, Zyn couldn’t tell which was which by now, kicked the other with a solid blow to the face.  Instead of flying back, however, the other Pols just took it as if nothing had happened at all; he just smiled in a manner that was very un-Pols-like.  Suddenly this Pols reached forward with one arm and grabbed the other, hoisting his counterpart into the air with decidedly unnatural strength.  Just as quickly the (obvious) doppelganger Pols bolted into the brush lightning fast, laughing insanely and the real Pols screaming bloody murder.  “Damnit!  Pols!”  Lum yelled as he tried to take off after them.  “Pols!”  But by then they were already far out of sight.  This didn’t seem to deter Lum for more than a moment, as whatever uncertainties he had were brushed aside before the knowledge that his best friend had been carried off by something unmistakably evil.  “Come on, we have to go after him.”  “Bu-but that [i]thing[/i] could get us just as easily,” Parn protested.  The sailor promptly ignored the short mage’s blithering protestations and charged headlong into the brush.  Apparently the group decided that saving Pols, however much of an ass he may have been, was the right thing to do.  But whether Zyn thought the same thing may have been a different matter entirely. * * *  “Pols!” Grumiah shouted as he slogged through heavy brush, “Pols!”  They’d been yelling and searching for only about ten minutes, except for Zyn who’d done less yelling and more searching.  Stupid fool Lum had near screamed himself hoarse by that point.  Just what did they expect, that they’d just find Pols and that’d be the end of it?  Were they just being willfully blind and stupid?  The guy was a goner, and even if he wasn’t finding him wasn’t going to simply be a matter of overturn a rock and exclaiming “Oh there you are!”  Of course the most logical place to start looking was one which everyone avoided aside from meekly approaching and casting a few futile glances.  Zyn, of course, noticing the others’ reluctance, had to approach it.  Doing so he gazed down into its dark depths, where the receding daylight was actively retreating from the black abyss.  Despite his opposition to the others’ mindless herd mentality, the he found he couldn’t do any more than peer into the cave from its entrance; even that took an amount of courage.   Along with the fear came gall, gall at why he could not simply push past his fear.  It was just fear, wasn’t it?  It was just a feeling, nothing more.  A useful feeling, but a feeling nonetheless, one that could alert to danger but could often get in the way, as the present dilemma demonstrated.  That such a thing that resided in his own mind did not bend to his beck and call was nothing short of infuriating.  Try as he might, Zyn felt his heart beat faster and his breath quicken.  Damn it, why was his fear getting the better of him?  It was just a little peace of mind, a little pool of tranquility that he happened to want to cling to.  Why the hell couldn’t he let it go!?  Instead of going forward and finding out the answer of Pols’ whereabouts, Zyn stood with trepidation at the entrance, until with a mixture of relief and disgust he stepped away to resume the search elsewhere.   Just why did he care anyway what happened to that stupid sailor anyway?  He was an arrogant idiot who practically deserved what had happened to him.  If it was his time to get taken away by some evil spirit, that was just how it was.  Another hour past, and the sun sky grew progressively darker as the afternoon wore on.  The five of them had regrouped near a rocky outcropping halfway between camp and the island’s domineering plateau.  “Did any of you see anything at all?” Grumiah asked.  All that question got were a few dismal headshakes.  An equally dismal silence permeated, until Lorian suddenly pointed at the plateau.  “Look, up there!”  The island’s central plateau was actually two plateaus, one large one that could be climbed up, and another separate segment with quite sheer edges that were impossible to climb.  Atop that second plateau, however, now stood a rapidly moving and flailing figure who was now shouting something indistinct but highly agitated.  The group promptly rushed to the sudden apparition, unsure if this was simply another trick but not willing to take a chance.  The figure’s shouting was at least enough to convince them that it was most certainly Pols or his double.   “Get the hell over here you stupid ladies!  Get your asses over here right now and [i]get me down from here!![/i]  “Sounds like him at least,” Grumiah chuckled.  There were still very unresolved issues, however.  “Uh, I figure you’re not going to be appreciative of being asked this right now,” Lum shouted as they reached the base of the rockface separating them and the screaming figure above, “but are you the real Pols?”  The response was predictable.  “Of course I’m the real Pols you drunk dope!  Do I look like that horrible cursed fake!?”  “Well,” Zyn ventured, “we can’t really know from down here.”  “Shut up landlubber!”  “Could you at least tell us how you got up there?” Lorian asked.  “How the hell should I know!?  I’ve been being dragged around by that cursed demon the whole time!”  “The whole time?  We’ve searched this entire island for over an hour and you suddenly appear up there-“  “What’s with you people!?” Pols demanded.  “I’m me, I’m Pols and I’m stuck up on this stupid rock and I need a damned way down, now!!”  Zyn turned to Lorian.  “You buy it?”  His master shook his head.  “I’m not sure what to buy at this point.  It could be him, it could be the double, it could be a trap.  I’m not sure at all what to do; whatever spirit set this up could be planning anything and we could be walking into it.”  “But we cannot just leave him up there,” Parn objected.   “What do you propose we do?” Zyn demanded, “For all we know getting him down, whether he’s really the real Pols or not, could be just what that [i]thing[/i] wants.”  “But our not doing anything could be what the spirit wants us to do by the same logic,” Grumiah.  Lum let out a long sigh.  “There’s another problem.  Just [i]how[/i] are we supposed to get him down from there anyway?”  That silenced all of them for a good minute, until Pols deigned to interrupt their standing around doing nothing.  “What the hell are you ladies standing around for!?  What the hell’s taking you so long!?”  “Why the hell can’t you shut up?” Zyn muttered.  As they stood around bouncing ideas back and forth and shooting them down just as quickly, they also noticed that the sky was darkening as the cloud cover thickened in roiling blankets of forming storm clouds.  “Great,” Lum grumbled, “we’re not going to be able to see a thing in an hour or so.”  Lorian gazed up at the sky to assess it himself.  “Less, probably.”  “Well that’s just peachy,” Zyn complained.  The situation’s peachiness became magnified when Zyn felt something on his nose.  Rubbing it, he distinctly felt a slight wetness.  “Um, guys... I think it’s starting to rain.”  The mage looked up at the sky.  “The sky certainly seems dark, but I do not see any signs of rain.”  “Why, weather magic that one thing that happens to be your specialty?” Grumiah quipped, eliciting a few chuckles, chuckles that were quickly drowned out by a literal cascade of rainfall that smashed onto them.   Taken aback by the sudden downpour, Zyn stood back for a minute before slumping his shoulders.  “You know, I think this is turning out to be a really bad day.”  At which point the entire island was permeated with a deafening roar.  “Ok, that did not sound good.”  “Guys, guys!” Pols shouted above the rain.  “Great... shit!  Shit!  There’s something huge coming in from the clouds right towards us!!”  Like a pack of mice they scattered in an instant.  Lum and Grumiah bolted in one direction, Zyn and Lorian in another, and poor Parn stood rooted to the spot petrified.  “Parn, move, now!”  Zyn didn’t get a chance to see if Parn’s sense overrode his terror, because off in the distance a huge crashing of trees thundered.  Zyn and Lorian promptly took off in the opposite direction.  The sky seemed to have darkened into night almost instantaneously with the coming of the storm, making it hard to see in what was in front of him, causing Zyn to trip up in his mad scramble.  Stumbling around, he felt Lorian’s firm hand hoist him up and carry on.   Looking up, the sky seemed unnaturally dark and stormy; in fact in a matter of moments it may as well have been midnight.  It became so dark that Zyn’s eyes barely had time to adjust and once more he was brought to a stop, this time by clipping right into the trunk of a tree.  Whatever horrible apparition was after them, it seemed its evil reflected itself in the very weather.   Another roar thundered across the island, followed by the distant but distinct sounds of human screams.  This was it.  His time was coming.  Even so, the instinct to survive pushed him on, and he scrambled to his feet and scrammed as fast as his legs would take him.  This, however, proved to be a mistake as in his hast he barreled right over a jumble of rocks, causing him to again crash to the ground, only this time on rocks, rocks that sloped downhill. The first thing that got bashed with his left arm, still raw from his nasty brush with the coral reef.  Next came his foot, then the back of his head as he tumbled downward.   Confused and so disoriented he didn’t even scream in pain, Zyn wobbled for a moment while the dark wet world around him spun several times.  He might have been disoriented and vulnerable even longer had not another shrill cry roused him.  Once again it was fear that directed him, and examining his surroundings he realized that Lorian was nowhere to be found; in the dark and with Zyn’s literal stumbling off the path, they had become separated.  He was alone, dark and wet on a deserted island.  Though probably not for long.  Wiping some of the dirt and rocks from his face, trying his utmost to ignore the pain he incurred from his fall, Zyn hoisted himself from the ground and staggered forward getting as far away from... whatever it was, as possible.  It didn’t help that if anything the storm was getting worse, as in addition to the violent rain the wind was picking up.  All in all it seemed to be getting just as bad as the storm that stranded them on this island in the first place.  The good news was they were on solid ground and not in the middle of the ocean.  The bad news was that solid ground happened to be cursed by some demonic apparition that was now hunting them all down.  From what he had heard all of the others could have been run down by that thing, to say nothing of Pols who had been trapped on top of the plateau.  Curse it all, he had probably just been bait, a convenient lure to entice them all to come to a place of the thing’s choosing to pick them apart whenever it wanted.  It was so simple, and he and the others so stupid for falling for it.  Then again, on an island this size, and with a curse that could seemingly move about at will, just where could any of them go and be safe?  There was no safety on this island, it was a death trap.  Zyn was going to die here.  And he didn’t even know how he should feel about that.  Zyn’s fatalistic musings were interrupted by the steady massive thumping of massive footsteps as they quaked the entire island, and they weren’t far off at all.  What was more he could hear the trees thrash and snap as something enormous thundered toward him.  Zyn of course did the only thing he could do; he ran faster.  Even as he did so he swore he saw some massive shape zoom overhead.  Panicking, Zyn looked around in the dim, rain and wind thrashed brush for [i]any[/i] sort of cover.  After what seemed like an eternity, he found a small rocky alcove and dashed into, scraping his knees in the process but altogether not caring in the slightest.   No sooner had he found this tiny piece of shelter than a mighty gale, far too powerful and concentrated to be from the storm, swept the immediate area.  Zyn heard a massive thud and saw some huge shape land nearby, but that was all he got before everything went black.   !DSPAM:4af0cfe3217611120848174! </body> </html>