A forenoon mayhem filled the stairs of the Golden Temple. A crowd of pilgryms – young, old, men, female, children, half machine humans, Abhumans – dressed in tattered and dirty clothes, moved like an ocean wave in chaos towards the gigantic doors .
The force of the mass crushed the weakest. Those who were unable to stay on their feet or were pushed against obstacles and unable to climb above the crowd were crushed by the feet of their comrades. Screams of pain drowned in a hypnotic sigh of hundreds of thousands of pilgryms.
On the far end of the sea of men a hulking body plough a narrow path for the noble characters followed by his tail. They called him “Adsum” – he who is present, here and now.
The slowly moving brute was only dwarfed by his ancient and gigantic power hammer, which Adsum used to control the crowd gently away from his path, like an ancient monk wiping the ground off the insects. Fresh blood and small splinters of bone dripped from the head of the hammer.
The skin of Absum was wet with sweat and trails of blood. Wide open wounds covered his thick hide. Most of these were made by the the half dead pilgrims crushed on the ground by the tranced masses. In their agony they bite and clawed the passing Adsum in hope of getting his attention – and to meet their merciful end.