Shackled City: Ruce Blackwind; Human; Urban Ranger 2: Journal Entry 2

That sound.
Again.
Ruce felt the blow as real as any weapon could have made.
From sound!

As if he had been charged and tackled from 4 directions at once.
He staggered for a moment, unable to shake it off. That had been twice as loud as the last roar from..

from...

from whatever in hell was hiding in some magic veil down in these tunnels. Each encounter worse than the last. Each encounter making him feel useless and greener than any cloistered neophyte. And each encounter a surprise.

So much for his "sixth sense of the streets" he had foolishly assumed on himself.
The Skulk in the keymaker's home -- surprised him from behind.
The Creepers in the hearth -- surprised him from under his nose and took him out with one strike
and now this howling -- from somewhere between the air itself. It pounded his lungs and raked every nerve. The echo of it surely would grip his thoughts and dreams for weeks.

Whatever it was - its attack worked. Ruce could think of nothing. Could not summon the strength to bend down an pick up even a fist full of dust. Could not speak. Could not process what his cohorts were yelling as they continued the attack. He could walk: barely. So he walked. Staggered. Halfway fell against the wall and slid around the corner. Could only avoid - MUST avoid -

That sound.