Ooh!! You got me into FLOAT so for STS, I wanna ask youuuu... what is in your opinion the most intense and badass creature you made for it?
Context: River is underwater as a kraken, checking out an area up north to see if it’s safe for the rest of them.
Maybe that weird cracking is just the sound of the ice shifting.
It wouldn’t be much of a comfort if that was the solution. I’ve seen videos of icebergs falling apart and glaciers flipping over. Environmental threats are just as likely to cause us problems as giant fish, monster threats—and much harder for me to fight off. Regardless, it’s worth checking out. Especially because the sound has continued to grow louder, which means I’m getting closer and closer to it.
I look up, and see far too many legs gripping onto the underside of the ice.
As I move tentacle over tentacle to hang onto the exposed portions of the masts, I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. I try to shift my color to the brown of the dirt might actually hide myself. It’s hard to tell what part of the creature is a leg, what might be an arm, and what is just a spike, but I’m pretty sure I’m looking at some sort of crab-lobster-demon.
Whatever it is, it’s moving slowly along the underside of the ice above me. Every time it sticks, one of its spiked legs into the ice, it makes that sharp clicking sound I’ve been hearing. The thing has enough legs—six? eight?—that the sound is pretty regular.
Looking up at it reminds me of nights spent paralyzed in childhood fear, watching a spider crawl across my ceiling. I was convinced that calling for my parents would require screaming so loudly that the force of my cry would knock it down and send it tumbling into my bed. I suffered, sleepless hours watching it move only to realize that it was now between me and the door.
I hadn’t moved a muscle that night, but that isn’t an option right now. I have to keep going. The floaters—and Aspen—are relying on me.
I swim over a few more of the rolling underwater hills in peace. I flinch with every click of the crab’s movement, and I try not to crane my elongated head up too obviously to look at it. Just when we climb a hill, I hear a series of those clicks in rapid succession.
When I look up again, it’s just in time to see the last of its legs detaching from the ice. The crab flips over and spreads out its legs. They wave wildly as it sinks down through the water, but its foremost pincers are covered in spikes and pointed straight down at me in a deadly threat.
Giving up on camouflage, I color myself a brilliant scarlet red and launch myself up to meet it.