Legends of Amacia Srandi: Last Bastion of the Caverias
Chapter 8: Surtur Fails in Vendikar

Hannibal slept dreamlessly on the Healer’s table as the machine recharged and repaired the damage he took in Poseidon’s Square a few hours earlier. However, after an hour being treated by the machine, strange dreams and visions once again intruded on his peaceful slumber. An evil influence that seemed damnably familiar swept over Hannibal’s mind as the darkness dissipated. A ruined city in a valley swallowed by the desert came into view with him floating high above it. For a few moments, confusion reigned in Hannibal’s mind as to where he was. Slowly, he regained his wits enough to take in the scene seeing a ruined alien city swallowed by the sands and the sun rising high into the sky to his back. The ruin was twisted and non-Euclidean with a strange evil aura about it. The ruins seemed to resemble a poorly buried corpse in the sands with jagged columns, broken temples, and other crushed structures made in unearthly inhuman shapes. Weird unknown arcane symbols and writing lay etched on most of the exposed structures with many of the ruined columns and structures still rising a solid hundred feet in height like broken teeth of a colossal titan. The largest structure instantly drew Hannibal’s attention...a Petra-like edifice half buried in a mountainous four hundred foot high dune.

As Hannibal focused on the colossal temple, he saw activity around it. He suddenly moved in without knowing how he was doing it to get a better look at the activity. On the north side of the temple complex, he saw three enormous crocodilian creatures that seemed to be a mix of crocodile and veloci-raptor clad in alien armor. The creatures moved at incredible speed towards a small ruin nestled in the base of the dune mountain that had all but buried the temple. He gasped in astonishment as his heart fluttered and his blood went like ice in his veins. In that moment, he knew exactly where he was...the Nameless City and he was seeing three of their living inhabitants scurrying with great animation and speed into the small structure, disappearing from sight. “Lord have mercy,” he breathe, “What in Heaven’s name am I doing here in the Nameless City and why are the cursed Vendo on the surface here? Who in their right mind would even tempt to intrude such a hideously unholy place and risk their wrath?”

Suddenly, an icy chill shook him to the bone as he noticed more activity towards the main façade of the buried temple. A single humanoid entity strode boldly towards the main entrance. It was dressed in loose kakis, boots, and a traditional Arab headdress. Intense deadly dark alien power emanated from this individual, who suddenly stopped as it topped the giant stairs at the very entrance of the temple. Hannibal’s eyes grew wide with surprise and fear when the entity turned around, searching the ruins around it before looking directly up at Hannibal. A sinister broad smile crossed the entity’s lips as Hannibal realized Surtur was looking directly at him in mocking glee.

“You cannot stop this, Beowulf,” Surtur cackled, “I will have my day. The secrets of this alien city and its inhabitants will be mine. Watch helplessly as I consume the Vendo and their secrets inside their own domain. Their life force, power, and secrets will be your downfall. Come...I’ll let you watch as I consume them as I’ve consumed countless other civilizations of this universe. This time, you will not stop me.” He beckoned with his finger to Hannibal and then turned, entering the temple.

“Oh no,” Hannibal breathed in horror as he felt himself pulled inexorably towards the temple entrance, literally following Surtur into the temple. “He cannot be allowed to do this, but I’m powerless to stop him. Oh Lord, what am I to do? If he eats the Vendo and discovers their secrets, he will destroy everything. The Emperor will become a moot point. Please Lord...please help me stop this! Surtur has to be stopped in Jesus’ name!”

As Hannibal swept into the temple behind Surtur, the still small voice of the Almighty whispered in his ear, “Do not fear, my son, for Surtur’s machinations and plan have already been thwarted. You do not have to do a thing except follow, watch, and do as I tell you. See the power of my mercy and vengeance. Surtur will not have a single Vendo to enhance his power. Watch carefully as I unravel Surtur’s Great Game as I did in the 1st Age at Drakonia.”

Peace instantly fell over Hannibal as he accepted the words that came from the mouth of the Almighty God Himself. “Let it be as you say, Lord...in the name of Jesus,” he said, now marveling at the temple he found himself flying through, “I submit to your will here. Let me see the failure of Surtur as you say.”

As Hannibal looked more closely at the temple around him, he realized it was both a palace and a temple, carved from the living rock of the earth itself. Even though the main chamber he followed Surtur through was not more than fifteen feet tall, it seemed to stretch in all directions into the darkness without its periphery being seen. Colossal ornate columns held up the ceiling, carved with blasphemously ancient alien symbols, arabesques, writing, and hideous bas-relief images of impossible detail and precision. Strange color palettes were used in the decoration of the images, symbols, and writing...color shades Hannibal had never seen before. The alien beauty of the chamber astonished him as he followed Surtur like a ghost. Then he received a further shock for he happened to glance at his arms and then the rest of his body, seeing it translucent, almost transparent as if he really were a ghost. His eyes grew wide again and an icy chill again wracked his frame as he reached out to touch a pillar he passed by, replaceing his hand and arm passing though it as if it weren’t there. He could not interact with anything in this place. All he could do was observe what was happening.

Surtur chuckled menacingly, looking back to see Hannibal’s shimmering ghostly image floating along fifty feet behind him with a look of genuine alarm. “Oh, you finally realized you’re a ghost in this place, eh?” he crowed wickedly. “That’s just absolutely delicious! Now you see why you cannot stop this. Come...see my victory over the deadly ancient Vendo and the seeds of your destruction, Beowulf. Then you will know it’s useless to defy me again.”

Hannibal’s hair stood up on the back of his neck as his rage blossomed. He was about to speak his mind when the still small voice of the Almighty whispered in his ear with deadly seriousness, “Be silent, my son. This is not the time or place to confront Surtur. Speak and he will have you, so be silent and hold your peace. Watch and remember what you see.”

Hannibal sighed deeply, pushing down his rage as Surtur continued towards the back of the chamber. He put on a stoic, emotionless expression as he floated along behind Surtur. “Oh, nothing to say, ghost,” Surtur taunted cynically, “That’s all right. You don’t have to say a thing. I will have you in the end. Even the Emperor will not stop my vengeance on you for what you did in Drakonia. But you will just have to wait and see what I have in store for you, my worthy adversary.” Surtur suddenly stopped as the back wall of the chamber came into view in the dim gloom. He held his hand out and a small fireball appeared floating six inches above it, illuminating the area. Just in front of him was a doorway carved from the solid rock with a door of unknown brass-like metal etched with more of the writing, symbols, and images of the Vendo. The door, parts of which were deeply tarnished, sat open, revealing a pitch-black abyss of darkness beyond.

With a sneer, Surtur turned and faced Hannibal fully, saying with mocking glee, “This is your last chance to leave, Beowulf. Beyond that gateway is the descent to the Abyss Gate and the great Halls of the Vendo Dead. Do you dare follow and witness what I’m going to do there?” When Hannibal showed no emotion, just a cold, stoic stare that Surtur found impossible to read, Surtur declared, “So be it, Beowulf. Follow me into the Abyss if you dare and watch as I drain it dry of its power and secrets. If I feel benevolent, I may wait until last to eat you. Now come along...see the seeds of the destruction of you, your world, and universe.” With that Surtur entered the doorway, heading down what appeared to be a steep spiraling stair case carved out of the solid rock...stairs that were seriously eroded from eons of both wind and water movement. Hannibal floated along behind Surtur, being pushed by some inexplicable force that wasn’t Surtur or himself.

Hannibal had known of the Nameless City and its crocodilian Vendo inhabitants from the lost forbidden texts, including that of the dreaded Al Azif. However, he knew the extreme dangers of the place and had left it well enough alone, knowing it was a place of intense evil almost as dark as the temple of Tiamat itself. Yet, he’d always felt an inexhaustible curiosity about the secrets of the city that he could now explore in his ghostly form. He felt torn by his inquisitiveness about the true nature of the Nameless City and the incredible physical and spiritual dangers seeking such secrets would hold for him. Still, he had heard the voice of the Almighty ordering him to follow Surtur into the core of the Nameless City and witness his failure. This helped settle his spirit about the dangers facing him even in his disembodied state. He had the unction of the Almighty Ancient of Days to see this event so he submitted to the pull, following Surtur into the darkness beyond the gateway before him...not that he could stop himself since he was at the mercy of vast cosmic powers far more powerful than he was.

Floating down behind Surtur at a distance of thirty feet, Hannibal saw how steep and treacherous the stairs were, just as he remembered from his last visit there decades before. The spiral staircase spanned just enough width for Surtur to pass down the slippery narrow steps while the ceiling quickly lowered from fifteen feet to just over five feet, forcing Surtur to stoop down as he clumsily descended the stairs for what Hannibal thought was many hours. The descent had taken so long time started to have no meaning. Hannibal felt they were descending into hell itself. Surtur occasionally chuckled menacingly as they descended what appeared to be an endless spiral stair, looking briefly over his shoulder to make sure Hannibal was still following.

At one point, Hannibal began to notice something strange, even anomalous about the stair. Time itself and Reality seemed to be stretched thin in the stair. The walls seemed to shimmer occasionally, becoming translucent for just a few moments before solidifying, giving glimpses of an illimitable abyss filled with vast star clouds, nebulas, voids, and other alien worlds never seen or dreamed of by any human mind. Colossal vast cosmic abominations on the level of Shiargoriath, Tsasthoagguah, even Yargoniath and Lord Grimm milled about in this cloudy abyss just beyond the translucent walls. Whispering gurgling murmurs of a distinctly alien, even reptilian nature floated on the noxious air. The sensation of the stairs stretching out up and down while the force of gravity seemingly grabbing onto those on the stairs, pulling them down into the abyss below. Leering alien, reptilian and cephalopod-like demoniac faces would appear in the walls, grimacing and whispering unintelligibly to Hannibal and Surtur before melting back into the walls. One time, Hannibal swore he saw the hideous abominable image of Cthulhu himself lurking just beyond the wall...its face forming a bas-relief when it protruded from the wall for just a moment before it melted away. This whole area of the spiral stair defied all known laws of reality and human sanity, seriously taxing Hannibal’s mind. Only by praying and clinging to his faith in the Almighty to keep him safe in this twisted place did Hannibal not break mentally.

Again, Surtur chortled evilly, glancing over his shoulder at Hannibal’s ghostly form, seeing his obvious discomfort. “Bet you regret following me now, don’t you?” he hissed in a hideously alien tone. “It’s far too late to back out now. Follow me to your fate and see the end of your kind and your existence.” The anomalous nature of the stair seemed to amplify Surtur’s alien nature and voice, revealing his true nature to Hannibal, who now saw Surtur as Clarence had seen him just before dawn...a hideous alien reptilian mummy with long fangs and blazing black eyes filled with hellfire.

This revelation truly shocked Hannibal even more than the hideous abominations he saw in the translucent walls. It made him want to depart immediately. However, he couldn’t. The force compelled him forward no matter what he did. When fearful panic started setting in, the still small voice of the Almighty again whispered in his ear not to be afraid of what he saw and felt. He had to bear witness to Surtur’s nature and actions in this place, and that nothing would touch him, his mind, or soul as long as he remained in the palm of the Almighty’s hand. Only then did Hannibal finally understand the unexplainable force compelling him to follow. It was the very hand of the Almighty guiding his avatar down into the depths below the Nameless City. He could actually feel the Almighty’s hand curled protectively around his ghostly form, which astounded him. His fear suddenly subsided again at this revelation from the very mind of the Lord God Almighty, causing him to again submit to the Almighty’s hand and will. Curiosity and his thirst for the knowledge of the unknown again rose in him. The Almighty was going to show him the true nature and secrets of the Nameless City and its inhabitants...the dreaded Vendo. He tingled with both anticipation and trepidation for he knew the secrets of the Nameless City of the Vendo were not just for any human mind. Alhazred had seen it and been driven mad by it. However, Hannibal trusted the Lord God Almighty to protect him and his sanity. He was there to witness a critical event that would change the course of history on the planet should Surtur succeed in his plot.

Surtur cackled madly at Hannibal’s discomfort while still descending the endless stair. He could sense the intense conflict in Hannibal’s mind about what he was witnessing. “This anomaly is getting to you, isn’t it Beowulf,” Surtur crowed exultantly. “As many times as you’ve been submitted to such anomalies, you still have not adapted to them. It’s the price you humans pay for trespassing in such anomalies where your kind have no business intruding. Your anxiety and fear is a delicious treat for me.” Surtur suddenly stopped his descent when he sensed an abrupt change in Hannibal’s mind that caught him totally off guard. All of Hannibal’s emotional overload, fear, and anxiety vanished in an instant, leaving nothing but a cold emotionless void in its wake that Surtur could not feed on, nor read. Turning and looking at Hannibal with an intense scowl, he hissed, “So...you’ve finally mastered your fear of this place and me. It will do you no good, human germ. I will still consume you...mind, body, and soul after I’ve drained this place of every speck of power, knowledge, and life. You will not stop me like you did before.”

“Speak to him now,” the still small voice of the Almighty whispered inaudibly in Hannibal’s ear, “The time and place to start the confrontation has come. I will place my words in your mouth. Trust in me. I will not allow him to harm you in any way.”

A wry smile crossed Hannibal’s ghostly face as he moved within fifteen feet of Surtur, stopping and hovering like a specter a foot off the steps. “I think not, Surtur,” he retorted with the divine force and authority of the Almighty in his voice. “You will not be allowed to consume the Vendo, nor their secrets. Your plot is already thwarted not by me, but by the Lord God Almighty Ancient of Days Himself...the great Creator of all that is, was, and will be. The Lord has already stopped you. I’m just here to witness the dismal failure of your plan to harvest the life, knowledge, and secrets of the Vendo beyond the Abyss Gate. Even now, the Vendo are closing and sealing the Great Abyss Gate in their Hall of the Dead. You are thwarted, little fire god of Crematoria. You will not consume the Vendo as you did to the souls of Crematoria when you consumed that world without pity or mercy in your lust for ultimate power. Nothing you do will change this fate so go ahead. Try to breech the Abyss Gate and when you fail, which you shall, I will be right there to see it and tell of your failure to the entire multiverse.”

Surtur’s hideous alien reptilian mummy face twisted in fiery wrath, eyes literally blazing with dark fire when he realized Hannibal was not there in his own power, but as an extension of the Almighty Ancient of Days Himself. He could literally sense the Almighty’s power emanating from Hannibal’s ghostly avatar. “How dare you send this human germ to again thwart my will, Yahweh?” he shrieked in utter rage on the verge of wrath, knowing exactly who was speaking through Hannibal. “You’re not going to stop this for you’re no true god like I am, otherwise you would not keep sending this pestilent maggot of a human to interfere with my plans. Now watch as I burn his very mind and soul out of existence, you foul piece of Grimm god shit!” His clawed hands burst into flame and he shot a plume of searing hellfire at Hannibal’s avatar to no avail.

Hannibal chuckled menacingly at Surtur when he discovered Surtur’s hellfire had no effect on his ghostly form just as the Almighty had promised. This revelation struck actual fear into Surtur when he realized Hannibal was beyond his reach in any manner. “You’re really fucking stupid, Surtur,” he chided with great relish, seeing Surtur’s alien face twisted hideously in astonished fearful fury. “First, you insult the Almighty to His face and then try to destroy me out of spite. Are you utterly insane to speak such blasphemy to His face in this perilously anomalous place? Good thing I’m not the Lord or I would have ended you the way he ended Yargoniath in my nightmare while I was under Tsasthoagguah’s black influence. You’re nothing but a puny wanna-be god like the Black Prince, and had better repent before He decides to send you to your final reward, which I promise you will not like.”

Surtur’s mouth dropped open in fearful shock at Hannibal’s words, now seeing Hannibal speaking as a prophet. “You will regret those words, Beowulf,” he hissed venomously in the dark confines of that anomalous stair. “I have extinguished entire galactic civilizations before coming to this miserable mud-ball of a planet to feast on the ultimate prize and become the true master of the multiverse!” He stretched out his hand and tried to electrocute Hannibal with black lightning bolts from his fingers and palms. The bolts passed through Hannibal’s ghostly form without any effect to him. However, it did blast a hole in the wall of the anomalous stair, opening a large four-foot wide jagged gap into the abyss beyond its flickering wall. It got the attention of the vast hideous cosmic abominations on the other side, which instantly flocked towards it en masse seeing a possible egress of escape.

Hannibal suddenly looked and saw the cosmic abominations clearly through the hole in the void. “Please, stop this madness now, Surtur,” Hannibal ordered with divine force, yet with an urgent pleading tone. “Your wrath and stupidity has seriously weakened the anomaly we’re in, allowing us to see physically into the Void through this hole! It’s attracted the attention of some very unwelcome visitors. Look, even now they swarm towards us. I don’t know what your game is, but I do know this is not part of it. Your hatred of the Lord and me has caused you to do something so incredibly stupid it’s endangered your entire game, not to mention the entire planet. Now calm down and use that dark thaumaturgy of yours to reinforce the breech you’ve created. I know you have the power to do it. For once in your miserable existence, use your power for good. Repair that wound in the wall so those abominations cannot break into our universe unrestrained. If you don’t, you will never get to finish your great game with me.”

Hannibal’s words found their way through Surtur’s incandescent fury and into his logical mind. When he saw the ghostly forms of the nameless monstrous cosmic abominations starting to gather around the weak point, he realized his anger had seriously endangered his great game with Hannibal. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Beowulf. We cannot allow them to break through here in Vendikar. This planet is mine to harvest, not theirs. I won’t share it with anyone.” Hannibal floated back as Surtur’s black eyes blazed with dark fires with his reptilian alien mummy face twisted in stern concentration. He turned around awkwardly, fully facing the wound he made in the wall of the anomaly while setting his feet firmly on the slick steep stair. Raising both hands, he muttered a guttural incantation of obscenely ancient and alien origins while bright orange-reddish fire sprayed from his hands onto the wound for about two minutes. The very rock of the wall went molten and ran back together, sealing the wound so that nothing of the Void beyond could be seen.

When he was satisfied with the repair to the wall, Surtur lowered his hands and glared at Hannibal’s ghostly form with great hate and a new appreciation of Hannibal’s enhanced power and intellect. “Seem you’ve gained some knowledge and wisdom since our last encounter in Drakonia, Beowulf,” he declared coldly, “Your knowledge of this anomaly is impressive, but it makes no mistake. That fucking Yahweh will not stop what I intend to do here to the Vendo, and to you. I only repaired this breech because I didn’t want the Ancient Ones or the Dark Titans of the Void to interfere with our little contest. This planet and you belong to me and no one else.”

“It’s not my knowledge that spurred you to repair the breech,” Hannibal retorted just as icily, “It was the Almighty who told me of the danger you’d created with your rash act of trying to again kill me when there’s no way for you do it. After all, He created everything, including me, you, and this crazy anomaly we’re in, so He’d know about it.”

“Shut the fuck up about Him,” Surtur hissed venomously, “He’s so dead, and so are you before this is over.”

Hannibal shook his head piteously, saying, “Okay...as you wish, but let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Surtur. You cannot touch me, not until the Lord allows it in His will. Until then, I’m in His mighty Hand. He protects me here from your dark fires and thaumaturgy, as you have seen. He’s my shield and buckler, my mighty fortress and refuge in the face of my many enemies, including you. You can’t touch me and you know it, so let’s get this done. Go on...try to fulfill your plot to eat the Vendo, along with their knowledge, science, and magic. I’m here to witness your failure at the direct order of the Creator of all things and that’s all. To be honest, I never wanted to be here and see this place, much less your ugly demoniac mug again, but the Almighty insisted on it so I’m here. I was sleeping very well until I found myself floating over this cursed City and saw you heading into the temple with obvious ill intent. Now what will it be. You know you’re doomed to fail in this enterprise. You have two choices now: leave this place before reaching the Hall of the Dead, saving your power for a fight you may have a chance of winning later, or you can go down there and drain your energy and powers trying to take something you’re never going to be allowed to take. Shit, with the hissy fit you just had trying to kill me, the Vendo may have already secured and sealed the Gate against you, so what’s it going to be, Surtur...little Dark Lord of Crematoria? Decide now.” Hannibal let the deep sarcasm drip from his ghostly lips with his last words.

“I don’t believe...,” Surtur growled menacingly. However before he could finish his statement, a low howl arose from below...the howl of approaching gales rushing up the steps from the abyss down at the end of the stair. “What is that?” he asked slowly, looking down the curving spiral stair. The noxious air started stirring noticeably, blowing up the endless stair. Surtur’s eyes grew wide as the entire staircase shook noticeably. The walls started rippling like a liquid with strobes of white light stripes rising repeatedly from below, going up the stairs as if one were moving at great speed through a tunnel with regularly spaced lights. At the same time, the drawing force of gravity they felt pulling them down abruptly ceased, allowing Surtur to float off the stairs.

“Oh boy,” Hannibal growled with concern, feeling the abrupt shift in the nature of the anomalous stair. “I think both of us are about to be kicked out of here by forces greater than either of us, Surtur. Don’t resist it if you want to live to see another day.”

“No; I can’t be denied this close!” Surtur railed in fetid panicked rage. “You can’t make me leave!” He tried to grab the walls and found them almost liquid and smooth as glass so he could not grab anything.

“I don’t think either of us have any say in this,” Hannibal answered, feeling the gravity suddenly re-establish itself with the pull being up the stairs towards the temple and not down towards the Abyss Gate. “We’re not going to be allowed to stay here, nor see the Hall of the Dead or the Abyss Gate. Seems the Vendo may have already activated their security mechanism to get rid of us. Don’t resist the pull, Surtur. Stop trying to grab the wall or you may be pulled into the Void by the things on the other side and be a very tasty meal for them.” Before he could utter another word, a dense swirling cloud of sand blew up from below as if it were a solid form funneling up the stairs to the outer world. To the astonishment of both Surtur and Hannibal, a crocodilian Vendo face formed from the oncoming sand in the cloud, opening its toothy maw in a roar that matched the rising noise of the gale racing up the endless spiral stair.

The gravity pull to the outside world then became impossible to resist as the wind rose well past hurricane strength just as the sand plume hit Surtur like a freight train with the Vendo face seeming to eat him alive. The force of the sand and wind literally picked him up as the wind and sand swirled like a tornado, shooting him up the stairs like a bullet. A shriek escaped Surtur’s lips as the Vendo-faced sand tornado engulfed him. A half second later, it reached Hannibal, who didn’t get caught in the sand, but floated just in front of the sand tornado on the plug of air being driven before it as it pushed both of them up the stairs for what seemed to be an eternity. He could see a strange gleam in the eyes of the sandy Vendo face, which also had a sinister smirk on its sandy crocodilian face. As sandy Vendo tornado surged forward pushing Hannibal before it on the plug of air, Hannibal suddenly felt both vast intelligence and sentience in the sandy face. Two words suddenly fell into Hannibal’s mind from the intelligence expelling him, rumbling in deep bass crocodilian tones that abruptly became audible...echoing off the solid walls of the endless stair: “Get out.” The speed of the Vendo sand tornado increased fourfold, forcing Hannibal and Surtur out even faster, causing them to become even more disoriented with the speed and swirl of the vortex with Hannibal becoming woozy and nauseous from movement.

Hannibal suddenly saw a glimmer of light as he spun wildly in the swirling air currents...the gate they’d entered at the main temple. Shooting out of the aperture like an artillery shell out of a cannon, Hannibal zoomed through the main chamber at astonishing speed with all sense of direction lost. Just before he hit the wall, he got his wits enough to see Surtur flying out of the gate in the sand plume, flying three-quarters the way across the chamber before landing roughly with the sands belching out of the gate spreading out and starting to bury him as he continued to tumble towards the main entrance. In a blink, Hannibal hit the wall but passed through it unscathed, eliciting a shriek of fearful shock and surprise. In the blink of an eye, he floated two hundred yards from the front of the main temple at an altitude of one hundred fifty feet, looking back at it. Sand was blowing out of every entrance and orifice to the main temple...a literal hurricane of sand belching insanely from the depths below the temple. The hurricane of sand screamed like an enraged demon as it escaped the temple.

Then Hannibal looked up and gasped in utter astonishment for a swirling pillar of brilliant white light and whirling sand shot out of sight into the sky from the top of the mountainous dune that held the temple. Moments later, a thunderous report rang from dune mountain, unleashing a massive concussive blast of crackling white energy in all directions that instantly energized the rising pillar of light and sand as if the sand mountain were an erupting volcano. The pillar instantly took on the look of massive Plinean eruption, rising a full three miles high in less than two minutes before collapsing on itself and spreading out in all directions in a sandstorm of biblical proportions half a mile high, burying everything in a shockwave hurricane of sand. Just before the edge of the sandstorm reached Hannibal, he saw Surtur fly out of the temple entrance as if shot from a gun. He landed fifty feet beyond the base of the giant stairs, rolling and tumbling across the sand as the sand blowing from the temple tried to bury him when the edge of the biblical sandstorm reached him. Then the unimaginable happened: a titan bas-relief image of the same Vendo face he saw on the endless stair rose from the wall of sand approaching him...its four story tall visage roaring with gleaming red eyes shining from within the sand wall two hundred feet above the ground. Its focus lay completely on Hannibal, who felt his blood turn to ice despite his ghostly condition. Moments later, the titan Vendo face rising from the sandstorm wall hit Hannibal, its crocodilian mouth wide as it swallowed him. All went dark for Hannibal as he shielded his face with his hands and arms by instinct. Before consciousness left Hannibal in the darkness, the intelligence he sensed with the sandy Vendo tornado face on the endless spiral stair rumbled in a deep crocodilian tone filled with icy menace, but also with small measure of respect, “Do not betray our trust, human. Your actions today have garnered you this one chance at life. Keep our secrets or face your doom. This will be your one and only warning.” Hannibal’s last conscious sight was a flaming Vendo skull the size of Aeolus’ head sweeping towards him with a roar out of the darkness as if it were going to swallow him whole just as the titan Vendo sand face had done.

With a scream of utter primal terror that rang out throughout that section of the Red Tower, Hannibal snapped wide-awake and bolted from the Healing Machine’s table, flailing wildly with his arms as if he were knocking away invisible enemies while racing madly to the outer wall of the Healing Chamber in a full sprint, fleeing an unknown terror. Just as he looked back towards the Healing Machine to replace his unknown pursuer, he ran into the wall with such force that he hit his head and bounced off it, landing flat on his back, at which time he received a second blow to the head from the unforgiving floor. These collisions with first the wall and then the floor left him severely stunned and completely unaware of his surroundings. Darkness slowly swallowed his consciousness shortly after hitting his head on the floor. He heard a deep sinister crocodilian chuckle echoing softly and menacingly from the encroaching darkness before completely losing all awareness.