The Heart of An Immense Darkness

[Colombina]

To stand in the midst of the desert was to be lost at sea. The seemingly barren ground stretched beyond sight in a monotony of dimpled sand. Sounds were scarce above the quiet hiss of grains spread by wind. The world had been laid waste here, never to be reborn. Beautiful Hai was an empty gesture now. It had been a message to the gods of the strength of man, a vision borne of power and the madness it brings. It now squirmed below the earth, wriggling further from its majestic husk. A portion of Hai was constructed above ground, a series of gates hewn into towering stone. They were like the façade of a pillared building, stately as the holy temple in Yahebah. At each gate was a guard, ready to lock the door from the outside if necessary. They let the party pass wordlessly, it was the keeping in that mattered. The gates made rings around what had once been a lavish set of stairs but had crumbled into a man sized hole. Various repairs were made to narrow the round entrance and a door of iron bars covered it. Five different locks kept it in place, in addition to what other arcanic properties guarded the unholy pit. Magic was here, it singed the air filling the nostrils with a metallic bitterness Two Eypharians were at the final post, armed to the teeth. Despite the obscure hour, they stood at perfect readiness. “We are here to brave Hai in pursuit of gold and glory,” the mage announced. The guards glanced to one another, as if it was a tragically common greeting. “You know we will not let you return once you enter, yes?” “And there is no other way out,” the other added. “We know.” the mage answered simply. “And you still wish to enter?” the guard pressed. “Yes.” They flinched, as this was an uncommon answer. “Then you are fools. Dead fools.” The other guard made a protective gesture borrowed from the Benshira. “You enter the reward Lhex has chosen for the wicked. They were born into a life that led them here. If you choose it, then Lhex has willed you to this darkness as well.” His companion merely shrugged and began the long process of opening the door while the other prepared a rope. One end of the rope was tossed down the gaping hole. Maroon stains and dry looking heaps edged into the circle of sepia colored light. The rest was blocked by the narrowness of the opening. The rope dangled over ten feet from the stone ground, and the Eypharian had no intention of lowering it further.

[Siiri]

Siiri had expected for Miharu to be part of the first group and herself left behind with Koa. The Kelvic's superior senses would have helped guided them in the lightless caverns of Hai after all, and her own warrior skills were better used when they had to extract the first group out by force. Instead, she found herself walking inside the entrance to the city with the two deyhan - or, rather, the two locals, as she remembered that she was the outsider in these parts - and the mage. She was displeased by the set up, preferring to have her bondmate by her side, but ever practical, she did not argue about the arrangement. Besides, she thought, someone had to keep these soft humans safe from whatever they're afraid of down below.

The Myrian kept silent during the whole exchange between the old man and the strange, multiple-armed humanoids guarding the entrance to the underground city, though she could not stop herself from sneering at the one who called them fools. Already, she was considering their unique anatomy, contemplating how best to break those multiple arms should she find herself in a fight against one, when one of them spoke a name she did not recognize.

"Who in Myri's name is Lhex?" she muttered.

But no answers were forthcoming as the guards busied themselves with opening the gate and lowered a rope in the dark hole that served as their entrance to Hai. Assuming her role to be that of the muscle of the group, Siiri did not wait for the others, volunteering herself to go down first. Lighting her own torch from one of the nearby ones, the Myrian tossed it in the hole, waiting for it to settle in the cavern floor before sliding down the rope after it. She dropped down the great height before the rope ended, tumbling into a roll as soon as she hit the ground to dissipate her momentum and avoid injury. Slayer hissed out of its sheathe as soon as she came into a stop, the blade inscribing a full circle around her. If anyone was within the range of its keen edge as it flashed by, well, too bad for them.

A moment later, with sword and torch in hand, Siiri looked up the narrow hole in the cavern ceiling.

"All clear," she called. She didn't much care that her voice rang and echoed loudly in the darkness.

[Hirem]

The night was chill indeed as Hirem went with his group into the gates of Hai, keeping his staff close and his wits closer still, shifting his gaze to every shadow in order to be aware of his surroundings. The high gates towered over them, with guards behind every corner and inside every spot of darkness. The Benshiran's skin prickled as they walked on into the bulwarks of Hai. "This place is wrong." Hirem whispered, holding his staff close to his body. "It should have been long abandoned."

He hadn't expected to be part of the first group that went into Hai, but there was no telling what the mage had inside his head. He didn't have any real experience in expeditions like this, and he didn't have any special combat skills. If there was any reason that he was picked, Hirem didn't know them or understand them. As for the other members of his group, the Myrian obviously could hold her own in a fight, and the masked one was unknown to him.

The warrior woman went down the rope first, taking a lit torch along with her. He couldn't imagine how long the fire would last, but it would be useful to bring along a light on the first part of their journey. A few moments after she disappeared, they heard the call come back up that the way ahead was clear. Hirem nodded, and approached the hole next. The light from the fire shone from the bottom of it, casting a red glow into the crumbling masonry and broken edges of the pit.

Heights. Damn. The distance from the ground wasn't too great, and the drop was guaranteed to be less painful than falling from the walls of Ahnatep. Still, Hirem blanched a bit and stepped back from the hole. He glanced around the company, and his eyes settled upon the old mage. He knew that the man had travelled up here before, but he doubted that he would make the trip down with ease. Hirem leaned back over to the pit. "I'm going to drop my staff down the hole. Watch out."

Once the staff went down the pit, Hirem stepped towards the mage. "Come on, old man. I'll help you down." A bit degrading, but there wasn't much need for politeness here. The Benshiran wrapped one of his meaty arms around the waist of the mage and stepped forward to the pit. He grabbed the rope with his right hand and took a deep breath. That done, he stepped away from the edge of the pit with the old man in tow, dangling over the hole.

He grunted, his hand straining to carry the load, and loosened his grip immediately. They slid down for a few feet before he closed his hand around the rope again, sliding to a quick stop. He didn't want to plummet freely towards the ground with the mage at his side, and doing this slowly was probably a good idea. He repeated this process a few times until they landed on the ground, a jarring impact that the Benshiran took the brunt of. He let go of the old man, shaking his head and nodding towards the Myrian.

Once he recovered from the landing, he stared up the hole. "Come on!" He shouted, his yell echoing off the walls of the pit.

[Savra]

It was a fine night for slaughter, and for Savra to escape from her demons. In a corner of her broken mind, she knew she would not be leaving this place – that the descent into darkness would be her last. It was an exhilarating feeling, and one she wished to share with the others. Fools, one and all, she frowned as she regarded her companions. The mage, who sought to restore a ward that would not last forever. The savage, whose impertinence would soon disappear in a mist of blood. And then there was Hirem, whose faith would surely stir the monsters that lived in the dark. It was good that Savra was one of them. If she understood how they thought, she might be able to kill more – so many more – than in her wildest dreams. No, she would not miss the desert, with its endless sands and scorching wind. Her bones would not litter its undulating wastes, their bleached surfaces forever being concealed and exposed by the capricious storms that swept through the land. It was better if her bones remained in the depths of Hai, to be worked into knives that would dance once more in the shadows. As she strode through the crumbling portals, Savra could sense the evils of the pit, could hear where the whispers of despair had coalesced into cries of torment. If not for her lack of empathy, she might have pitied the guards. It was only a matter of time until their resolve failed. What then would they do then? They will all die, Savra smiled, as must we all. It would be better to end their lives sooner than later, but that was hardly practical – not when she needed their strength of arms to ensure a proper massacre. Keeping her hands on her sword hilts, she stood back as the guards cast the rope into the darkness. The savage descended it first – as she expected – and then Hirem moved to help the mage, leaving her alone with the guards. It was an awkward silence, broken only by Hirem’s call from the pit. It was time to go, but Savra lingered, adjusting her turban. “I see your fear, she spoke to the guards. “In time, all you know shall crumble, and the sands will be drenched with blood. I see your deaths, and spit on your pretensions of resistance.” With that, she reached for rope and lowered herself into the pit. Its shadows seemed to dance around her as she climbed, almost as if embracing one of its own, and she took solace from its presence. She dropped the ground, drawing a pair of swords from beneath her faded robes, and turned to the mage. “Lead on, old man,” she smiled into his torch lit face.

[Colombina]

The cobbled stone floor jarred their joints and they had to roll under the weight of the weapons and stores they carried. Natural light radiated out from the entrance growing grayer and grayer until it was overcome. Supplanting it was the reddish glow of coals in braziers. Flickering miles away were candle soft beacons of light. They were dotted across mounds of darkness, hiding and reappearing with any change in position. What looked like a star hovered near the cavernous ceiling, radiating faint lines of light, but its glow did not reach where they stood. It was only a distant emblem in the gloom. A giant bronze disc was in ruins near them. It had been bent and beaten, torn down from its place of prominence. Siiri’s torch cast haphazard illumination. The firelight could only spread so far, as if the dark was of greater weight. While they gathered themselves, the mage was cautiously looking at the gate to the city, reading its inscription to himself. Beyond the gate was a road lined by elaborate braziers: bronze bowls held between the silver horns of creatures with hundreds of agate eyes covering their marble bodies. They crouched like lions, along the path, their mouths open to bare fangs. “When we move into the outer dark, the torch must be destroyed or lessened. It is a beacon,” the mage quietly instructed. Something scratched along the stone, a brittle papery sound. A creature pulled itself into the light then gently laid its head down on its elbow. It was a woman, in the most generous sense of the term. She was starved and chalky, her hair a limp suggestion. She opened her eyes, glassy and colorless, and her mouth motioned like a fish. The woman saw them without caring. Her primeval craving was for the light. She lay in it, and awaited the inevitable conclusion of starvation. Vaguely humanoid shapes were scattered around her, further from the light, in similar desperate postures. Was this all the terrible glory of Hai?

[Siiri]

Sound traveled much differently underground than above it, if one chose to listen rather than just hear. The slightest of noise seemed like explosions, magnified into echoes as they reverbrated off the cavern walls until they faded into nothingness. Siiri, with a warrior's ears that have been trained to detect the approach of an enemy in the backdrop of the Falyndar jungles' ceaseless cacophony, easily picked up the sound made by the pitiful creature shuffling towards the light of her torch, distinguishing it as something not made by members of her group.

Thus, it must be a threat.

A threat she had to deal with.

Unthinking, the Myrian growled and brandished her greatsword, eyes gleaming in anticipation of an execution as she approached the source of the sound. Slayer, the blade that decapitated giant serpents and gutted warriors from foreign lands invading the realm of Myri and her children, was raised high and descended with finality. There was no doubt in the minds of those present that it would easily end the life of the starving woman.

But there were more shuffling sounds from all around and Siiri halted the fall of her weapon before it dealt the fatal blow. She raised her torch higher, the movement somewhat hesitant after the old man's advise. The wisdom of his words were made apparent to her as more wretches in similar straits as the woman before her were reveled by the glow of her burning brand. Siiri recoiled in revulsion at the sight. She was beginning to form an idea on what Hai was to these desert people: it was a place where they disposed of their weak.

Madini, she spat. There is no glory to be had, no victory to offer Myri, by slaying these wretched creatures.

Disgusted that she almost stained her blade with the blood of such a pathetic kill, the warrioress instead lashed out with a booted foot, striking the helpless woman in the throat, breaking her neck and ending her life. It was, perhaps, the merciful thing to do, but she would not waste her time granting the same to the others. A moment later, she returned to the side of her companions, a look of distaste stamped clearly upon her features. Hai was certainly not what she had expected.

"Hurry up with whatever you're doing, old man," she called out impatiently, not knowing what it was he was inspecting. Whatever writings - if they were writings indeed - were on the wall were alien to her. "If only more of these living carcasses will greet us to where we are going, then I do not know what you brought me along for. They would meet Dira even without my help."

As she waited for them to get moving once more, Siiri lowered her torch so as not to catch sight of the broken bodies all around them. She did not understand why these desert beings would leave another in such a state when they could just kill them. Myrians maybe brutal as a people but they do not condone codemning others to such a tortured existence as what the wretches all around her seemed to be suffering. Besides, such a practice was a waste of meat and space.

"Who's the barbarian now?" she muttered.

[Hirem]

And now they were finally trapped in the city of the damned, with no way of escape and no means of success. Weak lights swayed in the distance, unable to penetrate the darkness and shine light into the ruined city. Hirem observed it all, and he felt a stirring within his breast. This is the great city of Menuseh? Is this what we have to look for? He let his head fall, no longer wishing to look into Hai. This place had once been the envy of the world, and now it was reduced to this. It was humbling, to say the least.

The Benshiran man could only watch in surprise as the Myrian woman killed the poor woman that had been crawling before them, with a simple kick to the throat rather than cleaving her in two with the sword. His first instinct was to rush out there and stop her from hurting another, but he kept his peace and stayed still, casting his eyes about the darkness to spot another creature.

Siiri was pressing on them to go, and Hirem could only shake his head. "Let him finish. He is knowledgeable when it comes to this place; I'd let him do whatever he needs to do." He glanced back into the darkness, where the body of the woman lay. His breath caught in his chest and he started to walk past Siiri, leaning on his staff for support. He offered no explanation for what he was doing, he just made his way silently to the corpse and fell on one knee examining it.

What he saw was something that would never leave him, for as long as he lived. This poor thing wasn't a woman. It was an animal, with hands that were for picking and snatching and eyes that showed no thought, no emotion. Siiri had snapped her neck, but that was hardly the worst thing done to her. Her stomach had shrunk, bruises and scars marked her sides, and Hirem could only see all this with a neutral state of mind. If he felt for this woman and the plight of others like her, he would fail in this quest. He had to feel naught by apathy or his heart would shatter for these creatures.

Still, Hirem realized what the worst punishment she recieved was. He looked around him once more, and shook his head sadly. What poor god had sent her down to this pit, he wondered. What crime had been committed? Or had she simply been born here, thrown into the den of wolves as a babe with nothing to defend herself. This place was wrong, and that feeling reverberated across his entire being. Hai should not be. "Depravity built my foundations." He recited, remembering the carving etched on the front gate. At least this city understood itself.

He heard the scurrying sound of limbs in the dark and he pulled himself up to stand, preparing his staff to strike out into the shadows. Nothing came for him though, so he quickly spun about and headed back to the group, shaking his head free of his broodings. He looked over at Siiri, and nodded his head. "Thank you. You did her a kindness."

[Savra]

Savra did not speak as the savage moved to dispatch the emaciated woman, nor when Hirem crouched by the carcass. It was not their place to offer mercy to these crawlers. No, the suffering must continue, forever and ever, until even the stones keened with anguish. Mercy was blasphemy here. Savra did not expect the others to understand, for they had not come to the revelation that life was suffering. In the darkness, every moment of life was sacred – no matter how desperate. As she stared up at the gate, Savra felt chills run down her spine. Beyond me the tortured city, she read from the faint carvings. Beyond me fear and fierce pain. Its words were a balm to her soul, a reassurance that beyond this gate lurked her own kind. When Hirem spoke, there was no mistaking the struggle that consumed him. He tries not to feel, Savra realized, for he knows it will be his death, just as the savage blusters and clings to her sword. In truth, she might have pitied them if she was capable. Already Savra could feel a molten jealousy coursing through her veins, for these two could feel. If only they understood how lucky they were to know love, happiness, and regret – to see the world through eyes that were not blank with apathy, or slitted with rage and self-pity. It was simply intolerable how they presumed to not feel, to pretend at monstrosity. Savra was tempted to slay them both now and keep them from profaning Hai with their presence. How often had she tortured and tried to understand the looks that passed over ravaged faces and the words that emanated from bloodied lips? How often had she pretended and then raged at the futility of doing so? “Is that your idea of kindness, Hirem?” she spoke at last, in a voice devoid of emotion. “I would not have deprived that woman of her suffering. It was all that remained to her. It was her right to suffer – much as it is our duty to ensure the suffering does not cease. Is that not right, old man?” she sneered at the mage. He would surely know of what she spoke. He did not embrace the darkness as she did, but he served it nonetheless, for he sought to contain this evil – not to eradicate it. And why does he falter? It’s because he sees the evil in all our hearts, and knows that destroy evil, we must first destroy ourselves. “If you seek a fight,” she said to the savage, “I suggest that you step across that gate, for that is where the monsters are. I hope that you are prepared for them, for the defeat what lurks in the darkness, you must become a monster as well.”

[Colombina]

The mage turned from the somber words over the gate to listen to the conversations. His body reminded him of its weariness as he considered their murmuring. There was much here to trouble a soul, much in life and in the nature of men. He dare not tell them all his creations for the city. While some would vindicate, others would not be understood. Not yet, at least. “I pity them as any normal man would when faced with another’s suffering, but most of those here did not show mercy when it was begged of them.” His eyes were stern with warning, “From here onward, do not be fooled by a tortured body, it may have malice in it still.” The mage rested his hand on the gate’s iron hinges, preparing himself to enter the long and lonely dark. “From here we go west, across the troth, to the gray border.” The door opened with a soft creak onto the brazier lit path. The sculptures were monstrous sentinels to path of the lesser of evils. The mage cast his eyes around them, peering into the ruddy dim. He motioned for a measure of haste, letting the trio position themselves around him if they chose. His protection was paramount. Without him there was no path to the surface, and no security against the dark. The mage knew the meandering course through the ancient tomb and what to answer back when voices called from the emptiness. Which made what then occurred especially terrible. They were halfway down the path when the gloom spat arrows. A black arrow spun between the group, nicking Siiri's ear before piercing the mage's throat. He fell to the ground gurgling and his eyes rolling wild and white. Clutching the edge of Hirem's robe he delivered words only the Benshira could hear. Hirem Only : "Ulric... justice not mercy..." The black arrows continued from the dark, scarce in number, but amazingly accurate.

[Siiri]

Siiri regarded the turbaned woman, remembering her bondmate's warning about that one. She had disregarding it at first - the woman was just human after all. But now she took notice after seeing the dangerous gleam in her eyes. That was no trick of the dancing light of the torch, she was certain of it. There was something cold and dispassionate about her gaze... like staring in the depths of a serpent's eyes.

But again, she was only human.

"Perhaps later, when I hunger," came the Myrian's flippant reply in Common. "But then, you are all still with me." She let the ambiguous words hang between them for a moment before flashing the other a grin, all teeth and with little mirth in it.

By then, the mage had already opened the gate, motioning for them to preceed him. Siiri took to the forefront without hesitation, sword in hand. Her torch, as per the mage's advise, she had already killed by rolling the burning end into the dirt. They walked along the center of the narrow avenue, the strange sculptures on each side like some petrified honor guards to their meager procession. Siiri was just thinking how perfect the setting was for an ambush when she felt something whizzed by the side of her head, followed immediately by a sharp pain on her earlobe. Her hand shot up instinctively as she whirled about to see what had caused it.

It was an arrow, black and deadly.

The missile had missed embedding itself in her face by a few inches. She should have been relieved but unfortunately, it had found another target. The mage, clutching at the other Benshiran man as if he could save him, had the arrow buried shaft-deep into his neck. He wasn't dead yet, his lifeblood only seeping from the gruesome wound, but it would only be a matter of time. And he would not be the only victim, if they just stood around there gawking. There would be more arrows, of that there was no doubt.

Instinctively, Siiri shoved the man Hirem and the old man to the side of one of the statues, before she herself dived for cover on the opposite side of the path, barely avoiding another arrow. Whoever was shooting at them was extremely accurate, leading the Myrian to believe that he or she could see well in the dark.

Skurak! Siiri cursed. Of all the blasted luck! Not even a bell yet in this damned place and there's already a casualty. Damn old man!

"Male!" she called to Hirem, not knowing his name. "Is the old man dead yet? Don't pull out the arrow; squeeze whatever information you can from him for us to get out of here before you release his soul to Dira!"

Siiri cursed again. The mage's quest would probably die with him. All Siiri cared about was getting out of this underground prison. Miharu still waited in the surface! She sent a brief mental message to the Kelvic through their bond, one not composed of words but images, telling her of the group's plight. She hoped the girl would run rather than come and try to rescue her but knowing Miharu, it was a hope made in vain.

We have to get out of here!

But to get anywhere, she had to dispatch the hidden archer first. Peering in the darkness, she tried to gauge where exactly the attacks were coming from. Hopefully, it only came from one source. Hopefully.

Siiri stood up and faked running towards Hirem, tempting their hidden assailant for fire again, only for her to dodge behind the sculpture once more, crouch, and roll forward as another arrow whizzed above her. She scrambled over to the next sculpture, diving to cover the last couple of meters to avoid getting hit. Inch by inch, the Myrian was determined to close the gap between them. And when she got close enough...

I'm going to eat your heart, she swore.