The atmosphere is fantastic, and the colours – light against metal – are indescribable. This reminds me of the Isle of the Dead by Arnold Bocklin. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I was reminded of Giger’s version, and of this quote by Stephen King in the Wastelands.
“All is silent in the halls of the dead. All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead, Behold the stairways which stand in darkness; behold the rooms of ruin. These are the halls of the dead where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one.”
Except here, the spiders spin other things.
Stormhaven with a descended dolmen truly lives up to its name.
The arid desert of the Alik’r is home to a surprising number of goats. They feed on the pitiful vegetation that springs tentatively from the cracked dry ground. Also surprisingly, I find no leavings of the goats in the dry land. Perhaps they eat them too.
The smoke carries the smell of burnt flesh and steel. The cries turned to screams and then to silence, the only sounds the crackling of bones and tentative footsteps on broken ground.
Sometimes when you look around, when you stop to take in your surroundings, you see details that have been left there by the powers that be. Some are huge, and some are so surprising you can’t help but break into a smile.
I was at Argent Mine, yesterday, and a few lifetimes ago. This wasn’t the first time I noticed them, hanging in their eternal loft. Whatever it was that killed them, they seemed to die happy, or in horror. I’ll never know.