![]() It's a miracle the paper hasn't blown away. Returning your gaze to your desk you see a scrap of paper with some writing on it. You see a similar cliff, this one with lava shooting out in a beautiful arc about half-way down and ending in a glowing pool of molten rock far below. Looking over your right armrest means to look over the other side of the mountain top. What appears to be a giant hawk or a tiny pterosaur circles lazily just above the mist. ![]() ![]() Peering cautiously over your left armrest, you see that you're sitting at the top of a sheer cliff, one whose bottom is thankfully obscured by mist several kilometers below. Wind swirls around you, and the sky threatens a storm big enough to wipe all humanity from the face of the planet. The peak is barely enough to contain you, the chair you're sitting in, and the desk you're sitting in front of. You're on the top of a mountain, and it's unbelievably dramatic. ![]()
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