(Gibbsen’s story will continue after the Sabbath.)
Arthes glanced through the battered windscreen, spangled with webs. He saw a basalt power screw through the air to the other side.
He brought his com up to his fringed lips.
“A narrow leaf, a narrow leaf; Trojan sidling, Trojan sidling; receiver.”
Pendulous tendrils of dark organic material descended from the vehicle top, filtered into his hair as he listened. Then he was dragged up from his seat by his hair, but before he choked with surprise he thrust a red and black taser into the mesh, and turned them to a spaghetti thundercloud. They took the vehicle roof with them, but no matter: clearly it was no more protection than a stand of bushes through which a serpent creeps closer.
#DailyCreatedOOM #WrittenOOM 2023/10/20