Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"I always love our little chinwags out on a job," Ronin grates, but then he's gone and Remi is wendigoing for a snack, apparently - something the Hunter doesn't notice until he's (would you look at that) right at his elbow as usual. He doesn't knee-jerk react this time; there are no knives to throats or guns to bellies or anything like that, but if Ronin had hackles, they'd be up.
"Ow, my poor feelings. Perhaps I ought to have you carry me everywhere in future, mm?" he mutters, clapping the wendigo on the cheek for good measure as he goes by.
The tunnels are the sort of dark that feels artificial, if only because the promise of light is always so close at hand. But they're warm and dry and soon spider out into a maze that would have the topsiders scratching their heads for hours, and that's good enough for Ronin.
It's a silent trip from his side, though that's admittedly unusual, but whatever has put a bug up Ronin's ass, he's not keen to share it. Luckily, the silence is soon broken by the low hum of people, of generators, of running water.
They enter the Undertown from the 'ceiling', one of the uppermost tunnels to the surface opening out onto a wooden platform and a playhouse of ladders, connecting planks and other methods of getting down to street level. Or, in Ronin's case, getting to the spiderweb of buildings that cling to the side of the city, where all the Hunters live. "They're going to notice the body," he says eventually as they make their way across. He's referring to the body the hag didn't have a chance to take into the depths, of course.
"Ow, my poor feelings. Perhaps I ought to have you carry me everywhere in future, mm?" he mutters, clapping the wendigo on the cheek for good measure as he goes by.
The tunnels are the sort of dark that feels artificial, if only because the promise of light is always so close at hand. But they're warm and dry and soon spider out into a maze that would have the topsiders scratching their heads for hours, and that's good enough for Ronin.
It's a silent trip from his side, though that's admittedly unusual, but whatever has put a bug up Ronin's ass, he's not keen to share it. Luckily, the silence is soon broken by the low hum of people, of generators, of running water.
They enter the Undertown from the 'ceiling', one of the uppermost tunnels to the surface opening out onto a wooden platform and a playhouse of ladders, connecting planks and other methods of getting down to street level. Or, in Ronin's case, getting to the spiderweb of buildings that cling to the side of the city, where all the Hunters live. "They're going to notice the body," he says eventually as they make their way across. He's referring to the body the hag didn't have a chance to take into the depths, of course.
sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
