• Nobles of Null is a forum based roleplay site where sci-fi and magic collide. Here, Earth remains fractured and divided despite humanity reaching out to the stars. Worse still, the trans-human slaves of one major power have escaped, only to establish their own Empire, seething with resentment at abuses of the past. Even the discovery of aliens, though medieval in development, has failed to rally these squabbling children of Earth together with its far darker implications. Worse still, is the discovery of the impossible - magic. Practiced by the alien locals, nearly depleted and therefore rare, its reality warping abilities remains abstract and distant to the general populace. All the while, unseen in the darkness of space, forces from without threaten to press in. For those with eyes opened by insight, it is clear that an era is about to end, and that a new age will dawn.

Exclusion Zone: Black Box

There was a moment of silence before Fyleen’s voice came back through the radio. “An entry point’s an entry point, don’t see how one differs from the other.” Fyleen fixed her gaze back on the cargo bay entrance. “However…” she hummed curiously. “We might be able to speed things up if someone takes the alternative route. You know? Cover more ground that way.” She took a moment before continuing “If you’re scared Comprendea, you can stick with one of us.” She added teasingly, poking fun at his worried comment. She continued up the ramp to take a look at the inside. She paused at the sight she saw inside, her eyes slowly pan across the room. “That’s weird…” she muttered to herself before contacting the others again. “I…I don’t know what to make of this…” She continued further into the cargo bay her eyes floating around the room. “There’s nothing in here.” She said over the radio. “We sure this ship wasn’t abandoned from the beginning?” She paused when she caught glance of the floor, she kneeled down and ran her gloved hand across what seemed to be scratches in the ground. “There’s marks on the ground, like things were dragged around the floor.” Lifting herself back up she looked back toward the cargo bay doors she entered from. “Yet nothing to be dragged…”
 
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Elluin radios in. “Roger that, I’m heading in the entryway I found, hope I’ll see you guys soon.” She turns to the handle, and begins to slowly open the hatch.
 
"Good work Ell!" Compry was the kind to be a team player and one of the best ways to be a team player was to praise good work. It was like parenting but slightly more lax. Or... more violent, if you were in the military. Still speaking to the two of them over the radio, he offered his own theory. "I am not scared, I'm cautious. There could be anything out here, so lets be smart about this. Besides, like I said, no footprints but no people, so where did they go?"
 
Fyleen's gaze through the empty vessel was interrupted as the AI's meandering and meaningless voice abruptly cut off into harsh and dismal static, which blared loud enough to be heard from the outside as if whatever source it was coming from was being mangled and ripped apart by something, somewhere. Quite abruptly, it lowered in volume to something more manageable, a dull buzz that rung through the vehicle like the soft hum of insects. There was, however, a sudden inhale through a microphone.

"ᛁᚾ ᚦᛖ ᛞᚨᚱᚲᛖᛊᛏ ᛞᚱᛖᚨᛗᛊ ᛟᚠ ᛗᛁ ᚺᛖᚨᚱᛏ, ᛁ ᚠᛖᛚᛏ ᚦᛖ ᚦᚱᛟᛒ ᛟᚠ ᛊᛟᛗᛖᚦᛁᛜ ᛞᛖᛖᛈᛖᚱ. ᛁ ᚹᛁᛏᚾᛖᛊᛊᛖᛞ ᚦᛖ ᛖᛁᛖᛊ ᛟᚠ ᚠᛟᚢᚱ ᛒᚢᚱᚾ ᚠᛟᚱᚦ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛗᛁᛊᛏ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛊᛁᛚᛏ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛊᛏᚨᚱᛖ ᛞᛖᛖᛈ ᛁᚾᛏᛟ ᛗᛁᛊᛖᛚᚠ, ᚾᛟ ᛗᚨᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᚺᛟᚹ ᛞᛖᛖᛈ ᛁ ᛊᚺᛟᚢᛖᛞ ᛗᛁᛊᛖᛚᚠ ᛁᚾ ᚦᛖ ᚲᚱᚨᚲᚲᛊ ᛟᚠ ᚦᛖ ᛊᚢᚱᚠᚨᚲᛖ. ᛏᚺᛖ ᛟᚾᛚᛁ ᚱᛖᛚᛖᚾᛏ ᚹᚨᛊ ᛏᛟ ᛞᛁᚷ ᛞᛖᛖᛈᛖᚱ, ᛁᚾᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᛈᛁᛏᚲᚺ-ᛒᛚᚨᚲᚲ ᚾᛟᚦᛁᛜᚾᛖᛊᛊ ᛒᛖᛚᛟᚹ, ᚹᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᛁ ᚺᛖᚨᚱᛞ ᚦᛖ ᛊᚲᚱᚨᛏᚲᚺᛁᛜ ᛟᚠ ᛁᚾᛊᛖᚲᛏᛊ."

The words were spoken by something organic, only the flesh of a throat could produce those sounds, but it didn't sound correct. The language it was spoken was unintelligible, something that elves did not speak, and not something any of them would have heard before. It was deep and guttural yet spoken with the common freedom as one would on a talk show.

"ᛗᛁ ᚠᛁᛜᛖᚱᛊ ᛞᚢᚷ ᚦᚱᛟᚢᚷᚺ ᛊᛏᛟᚾᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛞᛁᚱᛏ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚠᛖᛚᛏ ᚦᛖ ᛊᚲᛁᚾ ᛟᚠ ᛗᛁ ᚺᚨᚾᛞᛊ ᛊᚲᚱᚨᛈᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛊᛚᛁᛞᛖ ᚨᚹᚨᛁ, ᛒᚢᛏ ᛁ ᚲᚾᛖᚹ ᛗᛁ ᛈᚱᛁᛉᛖ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚲᚾᛖᚹ ᚦᚨᛏ ᛁ ᚲᛟᚢᛚᛞ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛞᛖᛚᚨᛁ. ᛁᛏ ᚹᚨᛊ ᛊᛟ ᚲᛚᛟᛊᛖ ᚨᛏ ᚺᚨᚾᛞ, ᛊᛟ ᚹᛁᚦ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞᛁᛖᛞ ᛞᛁᚷᛁᛏᛊ ᚦᚨᛏ ᛊᚺᛟᛟᚲ ᚹᛁᚦ ᚠᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ, ᛁ ᚱᛖᚢᛖᚨᛚᛖᛞ ᚦᚨᛏ ᛊᛗᛟᛟᚦ ᛒᛟᚾᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚱᛖᚨᛚᛁᛉᛖᛞ ᚹᛁᚦ ᚠᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ ᚦᚨᛏ ᚦᛖᛁ ᚺᚨᛞ ᚨᛚᚱᛖᚨᛞᛁ ᚲᚱᚨᚲᚲᛖᛞ ᛁᛏ."

It rambled incessantly, a voice that sounded mostly male, but at times shifted to something more androgynous. It began to speak fervently as if it had a short time to say as much as it could, and it would never get the chance to finish. Not that it mattered, as none of them could even recognize the language. Still, it spoke, rambled, and yelled in various levels, strong in its conviction, and emptying its lungs over and over again.

----------------

The hatch that Elluin pulled on resisted at first, but like a tired guard eventually gave way. It swung outward, faulty locks clicking as it seemed like the seal had broken at some point, though there was no indication of how. It pulled outward, locking open with a simple mechanism that seemed far too simple to fail, and so it lasted when everything else seemed to have gone wrong. The hatch opened into a short ladder well, one which she would have a hard time seeing over, but still clear and easy to climb upward, as the ladder well itself seemed largely inconspicuous and free of any signs of worry.

Upward, however, was a different scene.

The ship was obviously identical in design to the one they had flown in on. It was the part of the ship where they slept, the hatch that was supposed to keep the ladder well from being a hazard to walk around was already locked in an open position, with a busted locking mechanism that sat uselessly on the ground. The ground of the hallway and assorted cubbies was marred with burnt silt as if fire had marked them in a strange, inconsistent pattern. It looked more like some artist had taken the time to layer silt over the grown in an ornate, organic pattern than the passing of any given event. Licks of strange, branchlike burns inched up the walls, frozen as if caught in the act of moving, threatening to continue should Elluin look away for too long.

Elluin would know that through the nearest hallway would be a straight-shot to the cockpit where the synthetic intelligence would control the vessel, and where whatever voice was speaking would need to be communicating as it did. It was also where the black box of the vessel would be waiting.

----------------

Comprendea remained the sole member of the team who still remained outside the vessel, and the creeping chill of the storm was obvious as it solemnly approached, devoid of either compassion or vilification. It cared little whether it would crush them against the mountain, only that it would come, and the mountain would be replaced with another target to consume. Still, the sparks of lightning within the incoming clouds seem to brighten in anticipation, occurring with rising frequency.

If he looked around, he would realize that instead of the three trails of footprints of his own team, several extra sets began and ended randomly, ones that clearly did not exist mere moments ago.
 
Elluin grabs her radio in one hand while taking pictures with her datapad in the other. "This is Elluin. I'm calling to report that I am in the crew quarters, heading to get the black box from the cockpit. I'd watch out for any explosive materials, it looks like some sort of fire occured in the crew area that died out eventually." She examines the silt, trying to ignore the notion that the patterns mean something. "That could easily be the cause of the crash, some sort of system overheat that ended with a crash, or something like that."
 
Fyleen stood frozen in place as the blaring sounds over the intercom assaulted her ears. Her eyes increased their pace as she was frantically looking around the room. She wouldn’t admit to being scared, but taking Comprendea’s insight about being cautious was sounding less and less like a coward trying to save face.

It took several deep breaths but she eventually composed herself enough to continue moving forward. Her movement was slow as she made her way through the cargo bay headed toward the back, looking to go deeper into the ship. She was careful, surveying all around her as she moved, however she may have been too focused on her surroundings as the sound of Elluin voice suddenly coming through he radio made her jump.

“Right.” She sighed, relieved that it was just the radio. “Sounds like we might be able to finish this mission in record time at this rate.” She was hopeful the black box would simply be right where it should be so they could focus on the survivors, and get out of there.

“Hey Comprendea, you doing alright back there?”
 
"Uhhh," Comprendea stated suddenly, sounding concerned. He started moving up to the ship, towards the entrance his companions used while watching the ground with wide eyes. "I advise taking a look out of the ship. Not only is the storm fast approaching, but there are more footprints here. As in, more than we've made and more than we've spotted, there are just... more footprints." He finished, sounding increasingly perplexed.
 
Elluin picks up their radio immediately, stood still outside of the cockpit doors. "Comprendea, this is not the time for jokes." She says with a sharp tone. "That doesn't make any sense, if the survivors got out, they would've seen us by now."
 
"I love jokes," he replied, "but the main part of a good joke is the joke being funny and generally easy to tell it's a joke." He leaned into his helmet, though it wouldn't amplify his voice much. "This isn't a joke. I don't know what it is, ghosts, really specific wind patterns, but I swear to the Stars we reside in that there are more footprints." He was backed against the exterior wall of the ship, semi-frantically looking around.
 
Fyleen continued her slow stalk further into the ship. Her teammates going back and forth about something. Honestly she tried to drown them out, Comprendea’s ability to reply at all was enough evidence that he was fine, and she wanted to focus on getting the job over and done with as fast as possible.

She groaned, finally stopping to join in on the conversation. “Weren’t you out there the whole time? You are saying you some how missed something making footprints around you?” She sighed, shaking her head. “Have you stopped to think that maybe they are just your own footprints?”
 
"I have been methodically standing here, I would know if they were mine!" Comprendea was growing frustrated. "Just, finish up and come look outside. This place is horrible, and the storm is coming."
 
The forward breach of the storm wall came far before the bulk of the beast where the dangerous winds and pelting hail resided. Snow and wind increasing in volume pushed forward, diluting into the more still, yet still turbulent shear of the mountain they stood on. The far end began to smear into a haze as snow fell with increasing volume, flashes of silent lightning illuminating the seemingly endless void of white and gray that lurked on the other side of the mountain. In that ambient gray, Comprendea would see it, as none of the others could see the storm at all. Briefly illuminated by the storm, in flashes much too fast to determine much of anything, he saw the shapes of people, standing where there was no ground.

Humanoid, like they were, standing in similar heights but with clothes that stretched and covered their limbs in strange, inconsistent, and awkward ways. Like robes and baggy shawls, bound to their still form that seemed untouched by the fervent winds of the coming storm, or even the ambient blowing of the mountain that, on its own, proved difficult for them to move through. Each of them held their arms up, holding something in front of their heads. Larger objects, awkwardly shaped, but distinctly organic, as if they were holding up bulky masks of parades and cultural exercises. In each infrequent, unpredictable flash, the clothes and exact shape of the bodies seemed to shift, but the silhouette of the masks they held seemed consistent.

In one flash, one stood closer, for a brief moment in front of the storm, just far enough in front for color to be seen, where nothing stood before and nothing stood again. An elven shape, built with muscle and form covered in straps of brown and leather. Flesh was exposed, covered in strips of black that seemed indistinct at the distance. In his large hands, he held a skull of some strange beast, hiding his face behind it, strings of rope hanging from horns and fans, tied to round coins with holes in the center that did not blow in wind.

The bodies did not appear again.

-----------------------------

The hallway to the cockpit was barren of anything of interest, leaving Elluin alone with her thoughts as she tread through it. The door to the cockpit was ajar, flashing with a red light, any other ambient lighting having been turned off or died. The emergency lighting itself seemed damage, only flashing for a second or two of intervals, before plunging the room back into unnatural darkness. The light of the hallway did not extend far, as if the floor the light reflected to did not reflect light back through the room. Two chairs, on each side of the dashboard, staring at a blank, angled screen. A panel of endless buttons and switches, runes, and other strange shapes was turned awkward in the red lighting, casting shadows and smearing any meaning that they once had. The machine intelligence ran this part of the ship, the cockpit was meant for engineers and pilots who were either calibrating it or assisting when something in it failed.

They had been briefed on where the Black Box was, a chute in the center console one would have to reach into. Made of compact and extraordinarily tough material, it was a piece of the ship that could be torn out and fall through the atmosphere, impact ground and still leave the Black Box itself in working condition. The kinds of scenarios given where the Black Box would fail in their lessons were scarce, and often when faced with environments that no elf would bother to tread anyway. Ordinarily closed, the seal was already broken, the dreadfully dark chute giving no indication of what, if anything, was still inside.

Elluin was left with the realization that, despite being briefed on how to retrieve it, what it was for, and how hard it was to destroy, not once had they been shown an image of what the Black Box looked like.

-----------------------------

Fyleen had the entire ship at her disposal, and nowhere near the time, she would need to investigate every room. Elluin in the cockpit, having come in through the living area, and Comprendea having remained outside. Not only were there the standard rooms of the ship but the several small engineering hatches of crawlspace and maintenance rooms that people normally wouldn't check. Still, immediately connected to the Cargo Bay and branching out everywhere else in the ship was the Common Area, a circular room with furniture and various entertainment technology powered by crystals, like the rest of the technology they used.

Of course, that was using what she could guess from their own ship.

The hatches to the Common Area were open, and inside was practically a carbon copy of what she was used to. The lights functioned properly, everything was in its right place, and even drinks and food laid out, undisturbed as if a crash had never happened. It all seemed too perfect, if anything, as she could hear no alarms, no blaring of some lunatic on the intercom (such sounds still lingered from the cargo bay), and instead the quiet hum of some tablet playing a video about some animal documentary.

What was stranger still was the animal skull that sat on the middle table of the room, angled as if to stare directly at Fyleen as she walked in. It was some form of omnivore, with teeth that were both visibly sharp and flattened, and those in between. A snout pointed outward like a goat, four slots for eyes, and two sets of curved horns that angled forward and out. Tied to various teeth and horns, and hanging from a spare bone within the eye sockets were string, upon which dangled idly circular coins with holes in the middle.

It seemed to have been set to stare at the exact position she had moved to when she noticed it, but it did not move on its own.
 
Elluin looks around more, checking underneath chairs and tables, trying to find something that looks like it could’ve come from inside the black box’s storage container. Once that endeavor proved itself to be pointless, she picks up her radio. “Elluin reporting. The black box isn’t here. Crew must’ve taken it when they crashed. I’m heading out of the cockpit now, going to try to meet up with Fyleen.”
 
Comprendea had stared out into the storm, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he started breathing heavily. He responded quickly, "Ladies, there are ghosts in the storm!" He was backed against the ship, panting as he stared out into the roiling storm. "Shapes, organic and wild, and silhouettes of people, and some Aos Si with a skull, and now they're gone. We need to get off this planet!"
 
Fyleen jumped when she saw the skull, taking an embarrassed and somewhat frustrated sigh of relief when she realized it wasn’t anything inherently dangerous. She couldn’t tell if it was the atmosphere of a run down ship on a unknown planet or the inexplicable scratch marks and lack of cargo in the cargo bay, but she was more on edge than she would ever admit.

She approached the skull with a casual curiosity picking it up and rotating it around in her hands wondering what the hell could this thing have been. She didn’t know much about alien biology besides how to apply common biology to it, if it wasn’t a machine or Aos Si then all she could do was make guess work and associations to the aforementioned two. She took one of the dangling coins in between her fingers and pulled it closer to her face, twisting it around to get a look at both sides.

“Strange…” She mused to herself, lazily setting the skull back on the table and twisting it around to face a wall. “Looks livable in here.” She cast her eyes around the room, which so far seemed to be in better condition than the rest of the ship. “If I was a survivor I would just settle down here till help arrived.” She made her way through the room causally examining the things left behind, lingering on the animal documentary for a moment before moving on.

“So why would they go somewhere else?” She began to ponder, however she was quickly interrupted by the sound of Comprendea followed by Elluin on the radio.

“Ghosts?” She said to her self unamused. She let out a deep sigh before radioing back, “Again, are you sure you aren’t just seeing things? The storm outside was picking up maybe you’re just imagining shapes in your limited visibility.” She said with a ting of annoyance in her tone. “I told you if you were scared you could have come check the ship with one of us.”
 
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The skull Fyleen inspected was warm to the touch, as if it held ample ability to absorb and hold the heat of the room. It was almost like it still pulsed with invisible life, flooding the skull with the ambient warmth one would expect from a still-living animal. It was well-preserved as if the animal had been killed with the sole intention of harvesting the skull for whatever purpose it now served. The various coins jingled and clinked audibly against each other as she picked it up, too plentiful to imagine it not being intentional. The coins themselves seemed varied, made of some kind of sheenless metal that was cool to the touch, unlike the skull. In each one, a hole had been properly punctured through, though it seemed too natural to its shape to have been done solely to tie them to things. The ridges of each coin brushed against her fingers like the fine bristles of a delicate hairbrush, images of uncertain and bizarre shapes staring back at her on each coin. If there was some kind of value tied to them, no numerical image struck out at her, or any other kind of message outside of various fishlike beasts standing deathly still in their metal mural, each one unique in design.

"...-The Inland Empire Baying Shrimp is a common sight for locals and a strange experience for those incoming from other worlds, infamous for their strange mating calls that echo through the woods they emerge from, and their many year-long resting periods where they lay unmoving beneath the ground. Many farmers recount with despair how a batch of particularly fertile crops had been torn apart as a batch of the Shrimp clawed their way to the surface, coming across the fresh meal so delicately placed above them. Some believe they're capable of recognizing farmland and prefer to nest and hibernate beneath fields of crops, but such theories have yet to be fully proven. Even more, attuned with the local mythology is the result of digging into such a hibernating shrimp, particularly the larger members of the species. They scarcely react when disturbed like this, but seeing orange blood well up and clot the dirt like a punctured vein has been enough to give pause to any local for generations..."

The tablet continued to play the documentary, the audio struck by a strange filter as if the speaker it came through had been damaged. It was all quite audible still, but the sharp, shrill peeps of the animal playing peaked the limit of what the speaker could convey without corruption, leading to the chirps of the strange creatures it described mangling through the audio, becoming incomprehensible and blurring the words that followed, making them all but impossible to understand.

"ᛒut -ᛟu ᚳnoᛉ w-ᛟᛏ ᛏ-ᚲy ᚱe-ᛁᛁᛉ aᚱe, -ᛄᛋ'ᛏ yᚼu?" The scrambled voice leaked from behind a growing wail of demented chirps crying out from behind a broken speaker before the shrill cries became all that could be heard, splitting into a strange audio loop as the screen of the distant tablet seemed to degrade into image-filled static.

For a brief moment, under the cover of the tablets blaring, from the door closest to the tablet, Fyleen could almost swear that she heard a response from within the ship. A cry similar to that playing on the tablet, though it did not repeat, no matter how long she waited.

-----------------------------​

Her inspection of the cockpit seemed fruitless, at first, as Elluin seemed unable to find anything that could even point to its location. However, as she turned to leave the cockpit, there seemed a strange flash from within the original tube. Though it had, at first, appeared empty, in that brief flash of faulty wiring she could see the dim, vague impression of a handle deep within the container. It had been there all along, but it had not been designed to be seen easily. If she had to guess, she would have to play her arm elbow-deep to wrap her fingers around whatever handle was available to pull it out. All that, assuming of course, that what lingered within actually was the Black Box.

Seeing that strange hole that seemed to dissuade one from so much as looking within, Elluin would feel a sudden spike of shivers going down her spine. As far as she could tell there was nothing objectively wrong in the room, or in that strange hole that the Black Box supposedly rested within, but something old in her brain told her that it would be better to simply leave. It was old words, old advice, in the extinct language of fight-or-flight, in the veil of unconscious observation that so much of the brain dedicated itself to, but rarely spoke in modern-day to the average person. Still, something seemed to rouse it from its slumber as it whispered those important, ancient words into the depths of her thoughts.

Get out. Now.

-----------------------------​

The storm approached Comprendea without care or feeling, the increased whipping of wind bursts hitting him as the outermost storm wall engulfed the part of the mountain they stood on. They had time still, several minutes to get on their ship and be on their way before they encountered real danger. Yet still, as fervent eyes watched that darkened skyline, Comprendea could feel that something other than natural forces lingered in that veil of the storm. If they were trapped on their ship when that storm hit, and they didn't escape to safer ground? It wouldn't be the storm that got them, something in his brain assured him of that with absolute sincerity.

Comprendea was on edge, and it didn't take a psychologist to tell. His companions didn't believe what he saw, but that changed nothing of what he saw. If anything, it spurred the storm on, as if it mocked him with its approaching presence.

I could show you hell, baby.

It mockingly whispered to him with its silent, wordless approach.

I could show you horrors they couldn't comprehend, and they wouldn't believe you.

It was an emotionless storm, and it came without words, without mocking, but something beyond that veil seemed to embody those words without saying them. It was like a gut feeling he had, coming from his environment before he saw it.

It moved from behind the ship. As his eyes glanced around he could be absolutely certain that nothing could move in and out of his sight without him noticing. There was no space for something to come from, there was nowhere for anything to go besides the open expanse all around them. It was exposed in its own uncomfortable way, but in a split second of movement, he could be absolutely certain that something had been standing at the edge of the ship, on the far side, peering around at him for the entirety of the time they had been there. His body screamed at him in begging rationalization that it had not moved into sight, it had been there the whole time, and just now moved out. How had he not seen it?

Why could he not describe it?
 
Elluin suddenly turns back, remembering the handle she saw. She turns off her radio, cutting short her ability to participate in her coworkers’ conversation, and shines her light down into the hole, examining the handle. ‘There’s something wrong about this place’ she thinks to herself ‘and the black box is the only way we’ll find out what it is.’ She runs her hand along her left forearm, before gritting her teeth, and shoving left her hand in to grab the handle.
 
Comprendea's breath hitched in his throat, his heart beating faster and faster, His body was screaming at him in every possible way that this expedition was in danger, that they all were in danger. He was panting again, his eyes staring at where the form had moved from, it was behind the ship, whatever it was was behind the ship! He was speaking into comms now, his voice panicked. "We need to leave, we need to leave! It's behind the ship, it was watching us! It was there, watching, it just moved! I don't know what it was, but it's moved! Come on, we need to get back to the ship!" His voice was begging them, or now the only other one who could hear him, desperately begging.
 
“Comprendea get ahold of yourself! We still have a mission to finish, we can’t just leave the survivors out he-“ Almost as if on cue, Fyleen’s attention was stolen. She swung around and stared at the tablet that had begun to wail. She slowly made her way back to it, mesmerized by the horrific sounds being made by the device. A wave of relief washed over her as she reached the tablet and it seemed it was little more than poor mixing on a cheap sound system.

Strange that either the documentary or the device would cause such distortion in sound, but it was enough for her to wave it off as nothing more or at least that’s what she intended, however something else caught her ear…words? She could’t quite make out what the sounds sounded like they were saying but she could swear she heard words through the distorted wails of the tablet, and it was almost as if they were directly addressing her. Her body shook as she took a step back from the device. She would still try to convince herself that it was just the narration from the documentary piercing through the speakers of the device, which she assumed must be broken, if right as she took the step back she didn’t hear the same sound come from behind her. She swiftly turned around leaning back on the table the tablet was on. It was much more distant and quiet, she might even be able to say it was all in her head, but if this wasn’t the case then the sound she heard had to have come from the door she now faced.

She slowly crept towards the door, fighting every instinct her body had to take Comprendea’s pleas and abandon this rock. 'Sounds are good, sounds could be the survivors.' She would think to herself over and over as she approached the door, and in an agonizingly slow manner she would reach out and open it. Taking a few moments before sticking her head through the door way and looking around.
 
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