The Sketch Survivors: The Enemy Among Us

An Eye in the Darkness

If this were a movie, Soal thought desperately, this would be one of those scenes where all you could see would be the characters' eyes. That seemed true- except that here, you could see nothing at all.

The sisters' treachery was indeed discouraging, but it was not discouraging enough to induce mental failure. Soal knelt down and groped for something that could produce light. There was a flashlight in the backpack that Marsh was carrying, but it was too dark to rummage through all of its items.

"That's it!" Soal beamed as his hands stumbled across a heap of rough wooden sticks, probably years old. With all of his remaining might, he clasped two of them, and struck them together as hard as he could over the other sticks.

In no time, a flicker shone a candlelight's worth on the Legion. In even less time, the fire had spread to the oaken pile. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Soal picked up the longest stick (more of a twig) to use as a torch.

He brandished it around the chamber, the others ducking to avoid its fire. Soal looked around, and realized that the extent of this room was minuscule, barely large enough to contain all of the legionnaires.

The floor seemed more welcoming than the rest of the Facility. That may have been the reason they survived the fall unharmed. He peered down to find it carpeted in a blanket of torn leaves and ferns, ivy growing exhaustively on the artificial walls. The oddest thing of all was a word carved into the wall with some very poor craftsmanship.

F V I R O N

"I know that name," Soal recalled Xilling, and the temple there that supposedly belonged to them. It possessed a terrible power that gave it life and a bloodthirsty urge. And at the time, no Revolute knew anything else about its origin. What could it all mean? Weirder yet, above the inscription was a chute, one that was only fit for transport of, say, a rodent. The tunnel stretched with its flat ceiling and floor for an eternity.

"Guys, there's a-" he began, sticking the torch's end into the start of the chute. Suddenly, a fell breeze began to blow from its far reaches, filling the room with unstable air, the flames of both the torch and the original stick-fire perishing with a faint whoosh.

"Not again," Gorshaw began, only to cease his words when the chute's ceiling lifted with a mechanical jolt. A diminutive shadow scurried into (the remnants of the Legion's) view, illuminating the trap room with an aura of mystery.

Immediately visible was its disproportionately large eye, that of a cyclops creature that almost glowed in the darkness. Its diamond-shaped pupil seemed to appear that this creature knew more than it looked it did. Above its gray, bruised head, which was little more than the eye's socket, was adorned a helmet identical to the design of the Fviron temple in Xilling, atop which were two constantly twitching antennae. Below the eye, near the nonexistent chin, was a set of dark mandibles that were so small, they were often ignored. Whenever this... thing made a vocal noise, the mandibles waved back and forth, forming an eerie chirping sound. The head's sides were decorated with twisting horns, curving upward and downward in a plethora of symmetrical places.

Below the neck, a drab body existed, its stature drab excluding a diamond-shaped rainbow ring on its chest. Bursts of lengthy, overgrown hair obscured its shoulders, the origins of gorilla-like arms that ended in clawed, knuckle-walking hands. Beneath that, on the same horizontal level as its arms, were another set of arms, these ones shorter and technically hairier. A third set was placed below, but they were little more than stubby growths sporting several puny claws. The true legs were a tad shorter than the longest arms, legs that bent forever into inverse knees. The claws there were obviously the sharpest. Finally, a bushy tail built from what seemed to be the same hair as that on the shoulders emerged from its rear, dragged on the floor wherever the creature traveled.

The Legion was silent. Soal had, after all, ordered them earlier to react "rationally" in such a situation. But, after all, Soal had not originally planned to be accompanied by a pair of sociopath girls, who were in fact a giant brown pair of hands, that claimed the Keys as its own, and rampaged throughout the Facility.

The creature tilted its head curiously before turning its back and scuttling down the new spacious corridor that the expanding chute had just opened. "I think it wants us to follow it," Soal whispered to Irene, who was standing alongside him, trying to recognize this thing, while it beckoned, thumping its shaggy tail on the floor repeatedly until the Legion's next action.

Soal first equipped another torch by enraging the wooden sticks once again, and then cautiously stepped towards it, the other legionnaires not far behind him. The creature reacted alarmingly whenever Soal stepped near it. Soal understood, as the poor thing was only about two and a half feet tall, near the average kiwi height.

In a single file line, the narrow corridor did not take long to traverse, but their guide was especially careful, making sure there was nothing ahead when they turned the occasional corner. Soal decided to trust this monster. Sure, it was menacing, but he had had faith in many creatures of a similar caliber before.

Minutes passed, and the creature halted, very nearly sending Soal crashing down before it. Chirping in dismay, it strutted on its many arms and legs to lead the Legion into a vast cubic room, brightly lit with torches of its own, and populated by hundreds of other creatures of the same appearance. They were all gathered in a bulky square formation, divided into two halves by a pathway of sorts that led to what looked to be a throne. This throne of sorts was not particularly glamorous, but it gave Soal the message of a leader in the vicinity. Words were scribbled all over the walls, carved by the semi-linguistic writers of a cryptic race that Soal could now identify without any difficulty.

The Fviron leader glared at Soal condescendingly with his one eye, scratched and marked with the symbols of an ancient wisdom.