65 Ashan 718
This is where it all started. Maybe it was more accurate to state that this is where it all ended. The fireball that had been shot high above to signal fresh meat had landed. A free-for-all of bloodshed consumed the entrance of The Beneath like an archaic ritual that came with her arrival. Warm, red blood spattered across her once pure, prison-issued robe and her cheeks. More gore and brain matter painted the pointy end of her brand new pickaxe that doubled as her weapon. Screams of agony, pleads for mercy, and howls of victory filled her ears like a macabre cacophony that echoed throughout the oblivion. There was no pausing in place to take in the unreal scene. Hands pumping like mad at her sides, chest heaving, bare feet slapping in a hurry against the unforgiving, stony ground, there was only one thought filling Maxine's head: run.
The new addition to Level Seven sprinted further into The Beneath as though she'd been far hastier in letting it swallow her whole. Light from the crashed fireball at the entrance began to fade behind her in time with the sound of the final gate's closing slam. What little illumination she had to guide her was diminishing quickly, but the sound of racing adversaries was rising at her heels. Blood spatter painted the walls in thick arterial sprays and splats from arcs of murderous artists. Her feet lunged over shattered collections of bones both aged and new enough to have flesh still clung to its surface. Aye-aye mice skittered nervously out of the rushing woman's path with offended squeaks. The wreaking smell of unwashed bodies, decay, and resting waste filled the stifling air of the whole prison. She could practically feel the taste of present death on the tip of her tongue.
Yet for all the alarming stimuli that she was taking in from her environment all at once, nothing was as deafening as the sounds of those giving chase. Their foot steps and bloodlusting huffs filled the tunnels and commanded the entirety of her existential concern. The all-consuming darkness of the tunnel ahead was the only hope of salvation she had. The light from the fireball at her back perished. The blackness of this new world began to fall upon her, the walls seeming to be closing in. Fearlessly, but with adrenaline coursing fiercely through her veins, Max pressed into a world filled with dangers that she could no longer see.
Still there in her head, her eyes were as useless to her as a cockless whore. Her adrenaline-drunken brain made the proper transition necessary to give her some sort of natural edge for survival. After a few bits of running, her mind finally accepted the fact her sight could not be relied on. Everything began to feel louder in her ears as though someone had turned up the volume on the world. The only thing louder than either her foot steps or the ones looking to kill her, was the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest. The marked woman wasn't ready for this new reality...and she immediately found out just how poor she was at being totally blind.
Maxine careened head first into the wall of her first dead end harshly. She rebounded from the stone with a loud curse, free hand coming up to feel the burning spot that rocks had cut open her forehead. She turned to run in a new direction, but she was quick to run out of luck in an injury-free escape. Her shoulders raked against wall formations that bent inward to her path. Dips of the ceiling and stalactites hanging from above battered her face. Every hindrance to her easy escape only slowed her down for those that had become accustomed to this abyss. A pair of hands reached forward and snagged her by the arm, tugging her backward to start their fisticuffs attack. The worst part of the situation wasn't that someone had finally caught up to her. It was that more were certainly right behind them. She couldn't fight them all. Angry as she was, she knew she'd be slain all too quick if she gave pause to punish them for their transgressions one-by-one as they came.
Feeling the tug, Maxine turned back to deliver a fierce elbow in the dark. Her strike rattled against what felt like a skull. A stomach-turning crack split the air. A woman's yelp echoed through the dark and the hands disappeared, their hold on their would-be victim relinquished. She wasted no time getting a move on again. She turned back around and made another go at high-tailing it through her new hellscape. She might've made it a dozen steps before the sound of someone at her back returned. An arm made the attempt at wrapping around her throat, and the trill the brawler felt it around her neck, she grasped the arm and launched the person at her back over her shoulder. A cringe-worthy thwack came from the ground beneath her. Dust and loose gravel flew up in the wake of the anonymous landing. The sound of air rushing up from someone's lungs rang out, and she slammed her foot around until she hit what she hoped to be a face. More sounds of pain range out. Another set of hands came to strike her. Knuckles beat upon the side of her back, fingers pawing at a hold on her robe. Maxine turned with a growl and swung her fist, only to find her knuckles driving straight into a wall.
"Fuck!" she shrieked, shaking her hand and turning at the sound of the chuckle that betrayed her aggressor's position. The pickaxe came in a wide, arcing swoop intended to hit anything within its range. The chuckling ceased quickly after that. Then it was on again, the desperation of her state of affairs making her forget even the throbbing of her bloodied knuckles. Maxine kept running, running until she was sure her legs were about to give out. Still she could hear the sound of Scalvoris's most heinous criminals hunting her down. Her injured hand reached out to feel along the wall as she ran. Eventually, she felt what appeared to be some kind of break in the wall.
If this luck if your doing, Chrien, I'll kiss the fucking ground you walk on if I ever get out of here.
Maxine slipped into the crevice and pressed herself as far back in the opening as she could. Her chest heaved as she tried to recover, body leaning into the stones that cradled her with exhaustion. Her heart hammered in her ears at a volume that nearly deafened what she strained to listen for. She could hear the others coming full-speed. The suspense was as agonizing as punching the rock wall had been. Anxiety filled her, threatening to destroy what sanity she still possessed as the trills toward the one of judgement ticked forward. Foot steps range out like a stampede. She clamped her bleeding hand over her mouth, trying to force her breathing to silence. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Those they saw nothing, her dark brown eyes were wide.
They're here...
One-by-one her pursuers sprinted past her hiding place, surprisingly ignorant to her presence. She counted seven before the steady stream of killers ended. Noise that signaled their continued pursuit echoed further down the tunnel beyond her. It wasn't until a half break since she'd heard the last sound of their racing feet that she released the hand from her lips. It took every ounce of energy she still had just to hold herself up in the wake of the relief that followed. It would be short lived. No light was needed for her to know she was battered, bloodied, and bruised from The Run. She could feel each and every cut, scrape, and bruising upon her flesh as the adrenaline wore down. It hurt but pain was something shed grown used to long ago. Somehow she knew these injuries would soon before the least of her troubles, and the most minor of wounds.
Refusing to leave her place of temporary safety, Maxine settled into the uncomfortable crevice to go over the events of her full trial. Even now she could still hear the howls and the ending of combat originating from the entrance of The Beneath. Her lips pursed at the impossibility. The marked woman knew she must've run for at least a couple miles into the darkness far from the gates. Did sounds really travel that far down here? If so, how was she supposed to find any bearings without her ability to see? Slags Deep was nothing short of an absolute, undeniable nightmare. It was death. Any suggestions it was otherwise were outright lies. Did Kura and Sephira know this was to be her fate? Did they know what this place was truly like? Did they condemn her to this fate anyways? Was this to be the way she died? The hopelessness of her trying reality was only just beginning to sink into a denying mind. One thing was for certain though: she was out of her league. To survive against better-adjusted monsters, at least for now, silence was going to be her best strategy for survival.
This is where it all started. Maybe it was more accurate to state that this is where it all ended. The fireball that had been shot high above to signal fresh meat had landed. A free-for-all of bloodshed consumed the entrance of The Beneath like an archaic ritual that came with her arrival. Warm, red blood spattered across her once pure, prison-issued robe and her cheeks. More gore and brain matter painted the pointy end of her brand new pickaxe that doubled as her weapon. Screams of agony, pleads for mercy, and howls of victory filled her ears like a macabre cacophony that echoed throughout the oblivion. There was no pausing in place to take in the unreal scene. Hands pumping like mad at her sides, chest heaving, bare feet slapping in a hurry against the unforgiving, stony ground, there was only one thought filling Maxine's head: run.
The new addition to Level Seven sprinted further into The Beneath as though she'd been far hastier in letting it swallow her whole. Light from the crashed fireball at the entrance began to fade behind her in time with the sound of the final gate's closing slam. What little illumination she had to guide her was diminishing quickly, but the sound of racing adversaries was rising at her heels. Blood spatter painted the walls in thick arterial sprays and splats from arcs of murderous artists. Her feet lunged over shattered collections of bones both aged and new enough to have flesh still clung to its surface. Aye-aye mice skittered nervously out of the rushing woman's path with offended squeaks. The wreaking smell of unwashed bodies, decay, and resting waste filled the stifling air of the whole prison. She could practically feel the taste of present death on the tip of her tongue.
Yet for all the alarming stimuli that she was taking in from her environment all at once, nothing was as deafening as the sounds of those giving chase. Their foot steps and bloodlusting huffs filled the tunnels and commanded the entirety of her existential concern. The all-consuming darkness of the tunnel ahead was the only hope of salvation she had. The light from the fireball at her back perished. The blackness of this new world began to fall upon her, the walls seeming to be closing in. Fearlessly, but with adrenaline coursing fiercely through her veins, Max pressed into a world filled with dangers that she could no longer see.
Still there in her head, her eyes were as useless to her as a cockless whore. Her adrenaline-drunken brain made the proper transition necessary to give her some sort of natural edge for survival. After a few bits of running, her mind finally accepted the fact her sight could not be relied on. Everything began to feel louder in her ears as though someone had turned up the volume on the world. The only thing louder than either her foot steps or the ones looking to kill her, was the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest. The marked woman wasn't ready for this new reality...and she immediately found out just how poor she was at being totally blind.
Maxine careened head first into the wall of her first dead end harshly. She rebounded from the stone with a loud curse, free hand coming up to feel the burning spot that rocks had cut open her forehead. She turned to run in a new direction, but she was quick to run out of luck in an injury-free escape. Her shoulders raked against wall formations that bent inward to her path. Dips of the ceiling and stalactites hanging from above battered her face. Every hindrance to her easy escape only slowed her down for those that had become accustomed to this abyss. A pair of hands reached forward and snagged her by the arm, tugging her backward to start their fisticuffs attack. The worst part of the situation wasn't that someone had finally caught up to her. It was that more were certainly right behind them. She couldn't fight them all. Angry as she was, she knew she'd be slain all too quick if she gave pause to punish them for their transgressions one-by-one as they came.
Feeling the tug, Maxine turned back to deliver a fierce elbow in the dark. Her strike rattled against what felt like a skull. A stomach-turning crack split the air. A woman's yelp echoed through the dark and the hands disappeared, their hold on their would-be victim relinquished. She wasted no time getting a move on again. She turned back around and made another go at high-tailing it through her new hellscape. She might've made it a dozen steps before the sound of someone at her back returned. An arm made the attempt at wrapping around her throat, and the trill the brawler felt it around her neck, she grasped the arm and launched the person at her back over her shoulder. A cringe-worthy thwack came from the ground beneath her. Dust and loose gravel flew up in the wake of the anonymous landing. The sound of air rushing up from someone's lungs rang out, and she slammed her foot around until she hit what she hoped to be a face. More sounds of pain range out. Another set of hands came to strike her. Knuckles beat upon the side of her back, fingers pawing at a hold on her robe. Maxine turned with a growl and swung her fist, only to find her knuckles driving straight into a wall.
"Fuck!" she shrieked, shaking her hand and turning at the sound of the chuckle that betrayed her aggressor's position. The pickaxe came in a wide, arcing swoop intended to hit anything within its range. The chuckling ceased quickly after that. Then it was on again, the desperation of her state of affairs making her forget even the throbbing of her bloodied knuckles. Maxine kept running, running until she was sure her legs were about to give out. Still she could hear the sound of Scalvoris's most heinous criminals hunting her down. Her injured hand reached out to feel along the wall as she ran. Eventually, she felt what appeared to be some kind of break in the wall.
If this luck if your doing, Chrien, I'll kiss the fucking ground you walk on if I ever get out of here.
Maxine slipped into the crevice and pressed herself as far back in the opening as she could. Her chest heaved as she tried to recover, body leaning into the stones that cradled her with exhaustion. Her heart hammered in her ears at a volume that nearly deafened what she strained to listen for. She could hear the others coming full-speed. The suspense was as agonizing as punching the rock wall had been. Anxiety filled her, threatening to destroy what sanity she still possessed as the trills toward the one of judgement ticked forward. Foot steps range out like a stampede. She clamped her bleeding hand over her mouth, trying to force her breathing to silence. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Those they saw nothing, her dark brown eyes were wide.
They're here...
One-by-one her pursuers sprinted past her hiding place, surprisingly ignorant to her presence. She counted seven before the steady stream of killers ended. Noise that signaled their continued pursuit echoed further down the tunnel beyond her. It wasn't until a half break since she'd heard the last sound of their racing feet that she released the hand from her lips. It took every ounce of energy she still had just to hold herself up in the wake of the relief that followed. It would be short lived. No light was needed for her to know she was battered, bloodied, and bruised from The Run. She could feel each and every cut, scrape, and bruising upon her flesh as the adrenaline wore down. It hurt but pain was something shed grown used to long ago. Somehow she knew these injuries would soon before the least of her troubles, and the most minor of wounds.
Refusing to leave her place of temporary safety, Maxine settled into the uncomfortable crevice to go over the events of her full trial. Even now she could still hear the howls and the ending of combat originating from the entrance of The Beneath. Her lips pursed at the impossibility. The marked woman knew she must've run for at least a couple miles into the darkness far from the gates. Did sounds really travel that far down here? If so, how was she supposed to find any bearings without her ability to see? Slags Deep was nothing short of an absolute, undeniable nightmare. It was death. Any suggestions it was otherwise were outright lies. Did Kura and Sephira know this was to be her fate? Did they know what this place was truly like? Did they condemn her to this fate anyways? Was this to be the way she died? The hopelessness of her trying reality was only just beginning to sink into a denying mind. One thing was for certain though: she was out of her league. To survive against better-adjusted monsters, at least for now, silence was going to be her best strategy for survival.
