FW R2 Written Half P1

A young man stood outside one of the prison's many doors, his pointed ear pressed up against a small slit at eye level. His face was set in an expression of extreme concentration, attempting to focus on the noise within rather than the multitude of noises that echoes up from the depths of the abyss. Sweat broke on his brow as the noises from below increased in volume, impatience clear on his face. His shoulder length hair that framed his pale face was dishevelled from continuous movement, and his brow shone with exhaustion. Patches of sweat had begun to form on his red undershirt, a black duster coat insulating too well for extended running. His face was that of a young man, but the experiences had aged him. Face clean save for a patch on is chin; one would first take him to be in his early twenties. A silver monocle covered one eye, the les cracked from earlier combat. It soon began to cloud, and the youth took it off to clean. Pinching the lens between the folds of his coat, he spoke in a rushed manner.

"Can't hear anyone inside. You sure this is the right one?"

The question was directed to a darker shadow looking over the edge of the rough path. Nearly 6 meters long with scales that seemed to swallow the light around them, the cobra raised its head from the ledge. A strange red mark reminiscent of fangs adorned the back of the hood, and were quickly lost from view as it turned to face the human. Deep red eyes betrayed intelligence i the creature, and the very air around it seemed to shimmer with a black light. Surely the creature was not of this world. Regardless of what it was, it responded in a voice that echoed in the mind, light but harsh.

At this point it doesn't matter. The guards are almost upon us. Take whoever's inside and keep going.

"What if they're dead?" The youth had replaced his monocle and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a rather ornate key.

The serpent dismissively turned its attention over the edge and stared into the blackness. If they're dead then leave them. There's no time left.

A series of heavy clangs could be heard as the key was inserted and rotated. Gears and cogs of immense weight must have been moving, indicating that the door was indeed securely reinforced. The air around the door seemed to shimmer and fade as well. Clearly no expense had been spared in ensuring that these doors were secure, for the creation of a powerful shield spell was not to be taken lightly.

You'll be able to take it from here.

The youth turned quickly to the serpent, which had ceased to search the abyss. Like a distant shadow it moves silently along the stone path, continuing to ascend. Sensing the youth's confusion, it turned its head back, red eyes shining like small torches in the darkness.

There are things ahead I must take care of, and not much time. We'll regroup above. The voiceless word of the snake had a harsh finality to them, and the eyes retreated into the darkness, not once allowing the light of the wall torches to reveal their owner.

The youth gritted his teeth and pushed on the cell door which swung open slowly and gave heavy resistance, the joints screaming from years of immobility. He seethed; cursing the serpent for leaving him with not only an unknown cell, but the constant rattle from the abyss confirmed a rapid pursuit, likely led by the screaming body hanging in the center of the hole, which seemed to track their movements. For now though, his largest concern was getting whoever was inside here out, assuming that they were still among the living.

Unlike the cell he had awoken in, the youth was met with utter darkness, the meagre light from the central chamber illuminating little more than the doorframe. The darkness carried with it the same feeling of hopelessness that the abyss gave to the prisoners. Surely someone trapped in this hell had long since gone mad or perished.

The youth raised his left hand, calling on the power he had possessed as long as he could remember. Flames spouted from the center of his palm, engulfing the hand entirely, though he did not burn. Using the flames as a makeshift torch, he surveyed the room.

The darkness must have possessed a will of its own, for it seemed to swallow the light beyond a few feet of its source. The cell itself was rather narrow, perhaps eight feet across and high, though it extended far beyond the light the provided. Moving his hand back and forth slowly, he advanced deeper into the cell.

"Anyone in here?" His voice echoed in the tiny space, nearly overpowering the hoarse response.

"Back here." The voice was dry and tired, but was recognizable as female. The youth continued forward, the fire on his left hand increasing in size, illuminating more of the cell.

The scene, while tame compared to others that similar rooms had seen, was nonetheless horrifying. A young woman was chained to the wall by her wrists, feet barely touching the ground. The black top she wore which exposed her shoulders and navel was torn in several places, and many partially healed cuts revealed their origin. The dark denim jeans she wore were not as badly damaged, but slashes on the thighs showed that they had received a fair bit of attention as well. This had been done with a large knife with teeth that curved back, designed to rip and tear with cruelty. The knife in question was currently embedded in the girl's right hand, staining the wall behind a deep red. Given the slow rate that the blood flowed from the hand, it had certainly been a while since the knife was embedded.

The youth moved swiftly, reaching out with his right hand to pull out the knife.

"Don't touch it!" The weak voice surged with a sense of urgency, and the girl turned to face her rescuer. "That hand's cursed. Touching it will steal your memories. I'll look after it. Just undo the chains."

Taken aback by the fierceness of her words, the youth obliged. Once again withdrawing the ornate key from his pocket, he inserted the tip into the heavy lock on the chains, which thudded heavily on the stone floor. As the chains slid loose the girls stumbled forward, leaning on a steel table set up along the left wall, similar to the one the youth had woken up on.

"Are you going to be okay?" The youth moved closer to cast light the wound. The knife would undoubtedly tear more of the hand upon being removed, and the blood-soaked teeth of the blade shone cruelly in the flickering light.

"I'll be fine. My name's Shawn, by the way." The girl took a deep breath and grasped the hilt of the blade with her left hand.

"I'm Seth. What are you- " The youth fell into a stunned silence as his unfinished question was answered. Pausing only slightly, Shawn pulled hard on the dagger, tearing skin and sinew as it ripped out of her hand, sending up a fresh spurt of blood. A torrent of obscenities escaped her lips as the knife clattered on the table. Quickly Shawn tore a strip of fabric from her shirt, tying it around her wound as a rough bandage. Throughout all this, Seth had remained paralyzed in place, staring the scene as it unfolded before him.

"Hwut? Hucking hurts." Noticing her companion's stunned expression, Shawn spoke while tightening the bandage with her teeth.

Seth shook his head and turned away, fuming once again. He'd been fighting demons in horrifying places for years now, and here he was trapped in some dark prison with a half-dead girl, and she was showing him up! The mark on his hand seared in response, and black flames began to flicker on his palm.

A shuffling at the door snapped Seth from his mood of hatred. A had had appeared on the ledge, barely illuminated in the flickering torchlight. The darkness and the crack in his monocle made it hard to grasp details, but these soon became unnecessary, for more of the same began to appear. The groaning from the depths had finally arrived in full force, taking a form both human and inhuman.

With an odd intelligence smouldering in the sunken eyes that appeared, the balding half-deactyed faces began to emerge. Some were missing lower jaws, dome with large holes in their cheeks, and most missing teeth, ears, or noses, it was a motley crew to behold. They all had one thing in common: they were all dead.

Ghoul was perhaps the best term for the monstrosities, though even this was not entirely true. Asmodeus had rallied the corpses of slaves, prisoners, and enemies alike, and converted them into a private army. The undead were rather useful as soldiers and had fought well at Synod, but after its fall there were many corpses of both friends and foes, and without life they were of little use as sacrifice for magical purposes. Physical labour over extended periods was perhaps what they were best suited to, although due to the limited capacity of undead minds, hauling was all they could accomplish, and this could be served better by colossi and trolls.

Their eventual duty was all too clear and stood before Seth as a veritable horde, numbering not in the dozens but hundreds, with an everlasting chorus of voices echoing from the depths. Surely after centuries of slaughter an army beyond number had amassed in this prison, aching to pounce on its long absent occupants. Had they possessed the ability, they would have salivated as they crawled closer to the door with a surprising speed. As it was they slurred their speech through broken teeth and jaws, resulting in a mass of clicks and groans.

Shawn had noticed the advancing horde and at once lost her footing, slipping to her knees. Had she only survived her capture and imprisonment to be torn apart by this horde? Hayden... she'd never had the chance to say goodbye. She looked at her pistol, left behind by her tormentor. There was but one magazine left, not even able to make a dent. She might finish some, sure, but then... well, she could save one bullet for that point. Trembling, she reached for it, wishing that she'd remembered at least one exorcism spell.

A shadow fell across the door and she looked up. Seth had placed himself between her and the ghouls. His eyes had changed from before. No longer were they full of anger or fear. Devoid of all emotion, certain coldness radiated from him. Black flames poured from the right of his palm hand, twisting around his arm until it became coated in black fire. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he turned to face the horde and two words escaped his lips, in a voice not his own, but of one who shivered with anticipation at the upcoming combat.

"Let's play."