Let's go to the place we dreamed of
["What happened?"
"Where am I?
"What did I do?"
One or more of those questions run through your head. The land beneath your feet is dusty sand, dotted with what look like unnervingly lifelike human statues. Way too lifelike, frankly.
But they're probably the least of your worries. As, quite frankly, you have absolutely no memory of not only why you're in this weird, blistering land, but also how you got here... and most importantly, what you were doing.
If you're unlucky, you may have woken up with blood soaking your front and the bodies of... you can't tell. They're too maimed with most of the bodies missing, and from the uncomfortably full feeling you have, you have an idea of where they went.
If you're lucky, you don't regain your senses until you hear the song, played through a degraded but still working intercom that's loud enough to broadcast over the ruined city you've found yourself in.]
Light shines on the heaven, the earth, the spirit - light brings glory and grace. May it... open your eyes to the truth. Shanti, shanti.
[Bloodied or dry, the song calms a fierce feralness -- a hunger in you that you didn't know you possessed, and you feel an urge to follow it, to find the source. It's not particularly hard to do, either, as near the intercom seems to be an older military base, scuffed up but intact. Somehow, you know; you know the source of the song is there.
It's just a matter of getting inside... and once you do, it's to find what seems to be a boy just out of his teens, dressed in gray clothing and a half-orange scarf singing into the mic, unaware of your presence.]
"Where am I?
"What did I do?"
One or more of those questions run through your head. The land beneath your feet is dusty sand, dotted with what look like unnervingly lifelike human statues. Way too lifelike, frankly.
But they're probably the least of your worries. As, quite frankly, you have absolutely no memory of not only why you're in this weird, blistering land, but also how you got here... and most importantly, what you were doing.
If you're unlucky, you may have woken up with blood soaking your front and the bodies of... you can't tell. They're too maimed with most of the bodies missing, and from the uncomfortably full feeling you have, you have an idea of where they went.
If you're lucky, you don't regain your senses until you hear the song, played through a degraded but still working intercom that's loud enough to broadcast over the ruined city you've found yourself in.]
Light shines on the heaven, the earth, the spirit - light brings glory and grace. May it... open your eyes to the truth. Shanti, shanti.
[Bloodied or dry, the song calms a fierce feralness -- a hunger in you that you didn't know you possessed, and you feel an urge to follow it, to find the source. It's not particularly hard to do, either, as near the intercom seems to be an older military base, scuffed up but intact. Somehow, you know; you know the source of the song is there.
It's just a matter of getting inside... and once you do, it's to find what seems to be a boy just out of his teens, dressed in gray clothing and a half-orange scarf singing into the mic, unaware of your presence.]