The surface world is a dream, instilled by the tentacled ones, and many-eye's. It is time to wake up!
A world were fresh water falls from the sky?
were a glowing globe of fire illuminates the surface every twelve hours?
The memories are not real.
They implanted hope in us, because it makes us more docile, and weaker. There is no underground, there is only the infinite dark. Free yourselves from your sanctuary slavemasters! Long live Strangebone!