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You are fleeing, stumbling blindly away from the grinding machine mouth and whorled avalanche of stone dust that is the Great Wyrm of the Magus, but its terrible Song Of Anguish is receding behind you. All of a sudden Erica trips against some box-shaped object. You turn and see what looks like an empty ammunition can or crate, that reads the following, in barely decipherable ancient glyphs and runes:
5 56MM NATO
Organisation du Traité de l'Atlantique Nord
There is an assault rifle leaning against the wall amongst numerous discarded ammunition cans, empty magazines and spent bullet casings. It looks like there was a huge firefight in the vicinity... but the area is strangely quiet. There is no sign at all of The Great Wyrm, almost as if your flight and retreat from its nightmarish presence was merely a dream. But Marcus is gone, and Erica has a distressed emptiness in her eyes.
