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In addition to being more expansive than anything conceivable by the average surface dweller, the undergrounds also push the limits of Euclidian space and structure through their infinite passages and cathedralesque chambers. Used as we are to the living conditions of our fish tank atmosphere we expect the climate to be of relative stability and predictability. Contrariwise, in a world of chaotic construction, we see the most eccentric meteorology on this planet. Phenomena of wonder that even modern science would be compelled to designate of mystical nature. To illustrate the might and majesty of the abyssal climate allow me to deliver an account from the ages of grand explorers and hazardous sailing that has been relayed to me by a fellow darkness lover whose age surpasses my comprehension and whose identity I have not introduced yet.
The tale is of a vessel of moderate dimensions the name of which does not matter for both name and ship shall never be admired or remembered on the surface ever again. Wrestled by the raging south Atlantic seas into a cove for shelter the crew had successfully fled the obvious danger. Yet the real threat lay silently at the very back of the cove towards which the current was steadily pushing. The anchor dragged on the smooth rocky basin as the crew watched helplessly the inevitable spectacle of a gigantic gaping hole in the rocky fabric of the shore. The ocean itself seemed to drain into this majestic cavern and so was the vessel swallowed into the velvet of the abyss. Smoothly, like a dry leaf in a sewer pipe’s stream, it drifted in silence, if not for the lamentations of the sailors.
The slow and uncontrolled descent into darkness lasted for an eternity and supplies were running low. Other than the occasional agonizing scraping of a shallow concretion on the hull, which by some divine miracle had survived the drift to this point, the crew had lost sight of the cave’s walls or any other landmark as the tunnel progressively widened beyond the reach of the torches. They were left stranded in an immense void on what now seemed like a cockleshell. In the inky atmosphere it became impossible to tell if one was blind until, at one time that cannot be called a day, a faraway burst of light made the crew question their perception. But as time passed the flashes multiplied, they were getting closer. Against all odds, the party was witnessing one of the most fantastic types of underground storms.
Bolts of energy striking the surface with furious anger and mighty power. Ghostly gushes of vapor projected from the impacts in a deafening hiss. So powerful indeed that they shook the flimsy vessel to its core. In the washed-out light of the blinding flashes was revealed the brutal ceiling of charcoal clumps and foaming darkness. Yet the immense mirror upon which they sailed remained undisturbed, eerily still, barely rippled by the tumult. In this cacophony of light and shadow the ship was condemned. As the foremast was hit the wooden structure lit like a match. It burned bright yet there was nothing to shine upon other than its own reflection in the crystalline water. There was no soul to grasp the blaze either as the crew had long been blinded by the uncountable columns of light encircling them and scared beyond sanity by their calamitous fate in this otherworldly void of earth. By the time the very last ember of what had been a proud vessel sunk the spectacular display had ended.
