Mt. Ohm - God Slayer, K. van Marshall [little bear else holmelund minarik .txt] 📗

urrrry up”, snorts Sumatran, from behind.

“Yeh, butt din’t taak dis lung befor, ei. Did it bruv, did it?”.

“No way de same way, we get dropp'd den we fine de way to Undajelly, simple, Jav”.

“Suma, I kno. Dat’s why we picked ere, but it’s loooong, ei. Huuuurk pttuu”. Javan ejects a yellow blob of spit to the side, then wipes the excess dribble from the corners of his mouth with a grey sleeve end.

“Well stop yuh noise, din’t wanna ear it”, said Sumatran, avoiding the gob Javan left on the ground before him.

The reason for the pairs long journey here was still a while away, and the brothers had been walking for a couple of hours, and this is after a day long search for an entrance.

Sumatran is already fed up with his brothers constant moaning.

High above Subterra, the light blue sands of the Wasp wastelands consist of miles and miles of sparsely populated nothing. To those ignorant of its hidden entrances, Subterra is nothing but a myth. Many travel the desert above, passing over Undajelly without ever realizing they were moments from experiencing their wildest dreams, fantasies, and eventual death. The only things lost travellers will meet are the occasional roaming zombie, man-eating desert plants and eventually, an agonising death from starvation or dehydration; the latter for most.

After being dumped in the outer areas of Subterra, the brothers now search for a way to the capital city of Undajelly.

In Subterra the only source of light are small flickering blobs of green fluorescent fungi stuck sporadically over the walls and ceiling. With such poor light and a mind boggling maze of paths, it is easy to become disorientated. Many get lost in their search of the mythic Undajelly; their corpses becoming food for the carnivorous ecosystem of Subterra.

Unlike those poor souls who never stood a chance, the brothers are no average travellers, or simple minded thrill seekers. Having survived numerous fracases, a couple jaunts to pleasure states and adventures of monumental proportions, they are more than prepared for this journey.

Exiting a tunnel, the brothers find themselves in a small room sized cavern and confronted with numerous tunnel openings. With no obvious correct path, they ignite their spirits and use their acute demonic senses to locate a route.

They are surrounded by thousands of narrow tunnels, each weaving randomly together creating an endless maze around the outskirts of the massive state. All tunnels interconnect and eventually lead to Undajelly, but it is not a simple task finding the right route. The pair must follow the foul smell-spell to its source, without getting caught in an endless loop.

Each sniffed the air, splitting up, testing the air flow of the different tunnel openings - seeking out the correct path amongst hundreds of duds. As immortals, they could spend a hundred cycles searching the outskirts of Subterra for Undajelly and it would not put a dent in their life span, but they would definitely miss their meeting.

“Ere”, said Sumatran, finding a particularly foul smelling tunnel. Beckoning his brother to join him - he disappears into the shadowy hole.

The ambience in the tunnel changes seamlessly, as the green glow of the fungi gradually shifts from green to purple then finally blue.

Eventually, the pair stumble into another open space. A large blue tinted cavern large enough to contain a whole town. High up, blue fungi - positioned on the end of stalagmites - give light to this section of Subterra.

Greeted by the small domes of the living district, Javan smiles. They have finally made it to the midway point.

The domes before them were no taller than an average sized hueman and with just enough space for a few inside. The huge cavern is lined with rows and rows of domes, they are identical in size and go as far as the brothers formidable sight can see.

“Nuffin, it's dead in ere”, said Javan, as he peers into the mud crafted homes. Not many items or furniture can be seen through the tiny porthole windows. “De only morties in de streetz are babs and yutes, ei, Suma”.

“Yeh”, replied Sumatran, walking deeper into the mound town.

As if they had been fed a constant and steady stream of honey gums, children run in and out of the domes recklessly. Playing stuck in the mud while bouncing around the brothers.

For the first time since entering Subterra the brothers had life splashing all around them. Many were obviously orphans. From a brief glimpse, the demons note the clear signs of abandonment. Both dirty and malnourished not one looked over the age of 6, in reality some are as old as 15 cycles.

“Deese brats are de results of crazy nites in Undajelly”, said Suma. “De olders probs off enjoyin demselfs, or workin”.

“Haaah. Talkin of enjoyin”, said Javan.

“Cum on”, said Sumatran, cutting his brother off. They have work to do.

With no warmth in their hearts to spare for the street urchins, the two pass through the area quickly, their air of malice enough to clear the bubbling children from their path.

The demons have no time for their mortal issues.

It did not take long for the brothers prowl through the living district to end. It was a simple straight forward trek before they reached the edge. At the end of the living district the cavern expanded, with ground lowering into a meteor like crater big enough to swallow a whole state. They had reached their destination, Undajelly. Here the main source of light is a massive red boulder of fluorescent fungi. It is a million times larger than the little blobs that line the tunnels and living district. Stuck to the distant sky high roof, the strawberry red glow showers a hypnotic haze over the city of addicts.

Looking down into the crater, the demons are welcomed by the red pulsing heart of Subterra - the sprawling city of Undajelly. Still as ice, the pair stare at the immense spiralling streets of the famous pleasure state. Just like the tunnels behind them, the street layout seems to have no rhyme or reason, but that is the point; keeping visitors disorientated is its true purpose. After all, ‘Stay until you die’, is the national motto.

Domes of varying sizes, numbering in the hundreds of thousands dominate the core of Undajelly. High above ground level, several bridges link the opposing sides of the city. The tracks laid atop the bridge are for the antlines; the only mode of transport in Subterra. The insect powered trains are for the very special, their use and access restricted. Only ambassadors, royalty and respected friends of the state are obliged to use these guaranteed safe routes in and out of Subterra.

The King of Subterra unashamedly looks after elites.

“Look’a dis ear”, said Sumatran, pointing to the city below. The pair have visited the city for various explicit reasons over the century, but are always amazed by the extent of its growth.

“Yep, we need t’do diiiiis, ei!”, said Javan, gawking at the city below.

“Yea... But oww? We din’t ave eis powah”.

“Nah, but we ave powah”. Walking to the crater's edge, Javan drops off the side gracefully - quickly disappearing out of sight.

Sumatran begins to follow before stopping to take in the lay of the land; it may be useful later. After a moment and once satisfied he had memorised as much as possible, he continues to the edge of the crater - jumping off in the direction of his brother.

Carefully aiming for a bridge below, he lands silently - knees springing to absorb the entire impact and weight of his hefty body. Had he veered left or right too much, or slipped on the uneven tracks, the drop would have been a thousand metre one straight down to the hard Undajelly floor. To waste his immortal vigour on healing now, would be foolish; they may yet have to fight to their fullest, if the meeting goes wrong.

“Your sloooow, ei”, roared Javan, he was already a mile down the tracks.

“Heh, slot-mite”, Suma laughed, before taking off after his brother. An average hueman would be travelling for a day and some before reaching the centre of the Undajelly, even using the direct route of the tracks aboard the ant-train would take longer than this pair going at their top speed.

Since arriving in Subterra the brothers had hardly seen a soul, just the rabble of street kids on their journey through the living district. However, the Undajelly below was a carnival, it made the screaming kids of the blue band look like a library.

The streets buzz with blissful ecstasy and crudy shame.

Senses still heightened, the two absorb the atmosphere of Undajelly as a variety of sensory awakening stimuli aggressively invade their senses. Their nostrils inhale all the scents unique to a place famous for depraved pleasures; their pointed elf-ears hear every moan, sharp cat like pupils witness things that should only be seen in the politeness of darkness. The pair can't help but soak in the atmosphere from their high road.  

“Yuh good?”, asked Sumatran, checking on his brothers state of mind. The vile yet sweet scents of lust, greed and gluttony permeating the air had grown stronger; attempting to settle in their minds - trying to guide them down a river of ecstasy.

“M’alrite”, replied Javan.

“It gettin ticker”, said Sumatran, before shaking his head, and sneezing away the tingling in his nose. “Come”.

The brothers set off again, they were not here for games. Their immortality protects them like a vaccine working against a virus, their kirah fights the soul-sneering ether’s attempts to steal their wits. Continually probing, the vigorous pheromones will not give up on sending them into an endless cycle of being pleasured and pleasuring. Getting caught in the clutches of gambling, drinking and complete addiction in Undajelly will always lead to eternal servitude.

As the pair sprint along the tracks they watch as the domes beneath them double and triple in size. Gradually they become so large that their peaks easily pass high above the lofted tracks.

Intrigued, Javan watches people intently, as they push and vie for space on the narrow paths; all in search of that ‘something special’.

“Oiiii! Time to jump!!!”, yelled Sumatran, before leaping from the bridge towards a medium sized dome.

Javan’s curiosity had tied his focus to the hectic goings on below. Until the yell of his brother he had not noticed the rumble or screeching coming from the tracks beside him.

A giant headed bull-ant is charges towards him. They are stern and dangerous creatures, and also the engine of the trains.

Javan casually turns to look at the massive insect. It rushes toward him with no intention of stopping. There is no hint of fear in his eyes. Dislodging the fat headed bug wouldn't be much of a problem, but drawing any unwanted attention could lead to consequences; Suma’s warnings limit his options.

Hopping from the bridge he bounces from dome to dome until reaching the sticky Undajelly floor.

Once at street level, Sumatran leads the pair to their destination. However, Javan is more interested in taking a mental note of every pleasure shop they pass; he may want to return later, and each dome specializes in a different vice.

The larger ones boast numerous and more exotic specialities; the type that particularly arouse Javan’s interest. On the side of the domes their names along with a crude depiction of the vices found within are painted in blobs of fluorescent fungi, very useful for those with specific wants.

“Funny, Formic’d particula for’a smut lord”, laughed Javan.

“Yeh, funny for’a perv”, added Sumatran dismissively.

The pair referred, to one of the demon King's ultimate laws; ‘Domes must always have what is shown on the outside’. It is a known fact that if the self-made King comes calling and finds an establishment does not have what is advertised, he will sink the entire dome down to the