To fortify themselves before pulling the jagged fragments from their hands, they wandered into the cellar to pour themselves a frosty mug of delectable cider from the giant casks that inhabited the depths of The Stadium. As they crossed the dirt floor that made up the centre arena, they came upon their food supplies, strewn across the ground. Animals, taking advantage of their deep state of concentration, had torn through the week’s supply of food they had gathered only yesterday.
Needing the drink more than ever, The Acolytes made haste to the cellar. Halfway down the stairs, The Acolyte stumbled, knocking The Acolyte down the cold, shallow stairs. Over and over they tumbled, finally coming to an undignified, bruised halt against the opposite wall.
Knees shaking from pain and adrenaline, The Acolytes dragged themselves over to the nearest cider cask. Grabbing two mugs, The Acolyte twisted the tap, and held one underneath to catch the cold, revitalizing elixir. From the tap poured forth…. Nothing. Running to the next cask, they nervously rapped on the side. Empty. The next. Empty. Next. Empty. Next. Empty. The entire cellar was dust-dry.
Raising their arms, they howled at the uncaring walls; their souls a welter of pain and torment. They knew, in their heart, that the Stadium was speaking to them, giving them the next challenge.
Today’s Google Challenge is…..