Fable - Ask No Way Out

[Aeyliea]

One always imagines dungeons to be dark, dank places with cold water dripping from the ceiling into standing puddles, half rotten straw for bedding and minimal lighting. Rats, excrement spoiling in a bucket so that the entire chamber smelled of a latrine in high summer.

This was not one of those dungeons, but it was not exactly a pleasant place either.

She sat on a wooden bench hung from the wall by chains, legs drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The chill in the air was enough that she had taken to shivering from the damp, cool air; southern climes like this did not often get truly cold, but this was underground and that meant a constant temperature. She was accustomed to the flowing grasslands and the savannah, where it was seldom cold save for night.

They had taken her clothes. They had taken her leathers, her weapons, her shield. Her knives had been confiscated, of course. Most damning of all, though, were the charms that she had always kept with her. Her hair hung tied at the nape of her neck but otherwise loose; it was dirty and tangled, just like the thin linen shift that was all she had been offered in the name of modesty for clothing. It barely managed to conceal everything it was supposed to conceal, and it most certainly offered little protection from the damp. Her feet were bare.

It had been an indeterminate period of time, locked in this chilly hell. The pain from the injuries she had sustained in her capture had gradually faded as the days had carried on, but the pain and the wounds had taken their toll. She looked weary, her features drawn from a lack of proper rest and food. Underlying all of that, though, was the uncertainty of her fate.

And the unwelcome guest that had curled up in the back of her head, talons digging deeply into her soul as if fearful of losing its grip. It had been thus since she had called to the Wild in that heated moment, when she had been in the raid that saw her captured. Aeyliea was still relatively young for a shaman, and she had never truly accepted her place among those who called themselves such. She did not, then, understand all of the dangers and pitfalls of consorting with the wild powers of the Ancestors and of the Wild itself.

She had a sneaking suspicion that this thing that resided within her soul was one of those dangers, and had yet to figure out what to do about it, if there was anything that could be done.

Somewhere in the darkness of the hallway, towards where the light came, the sound of a rusty, squealing hinge screeched. It was time for the daily rounds, if it was daily. Not for the first time, she considered getting off the cot, reaching through the bars, and pulling the armored guard into the bars, breaking his neck, and getting the keys off of him. Escaping. Even a slim chance at freedom was better than nothing, especially when slavery or death awaited her. There was little chance that Vel Anir would do anything other than that with her; she was an enemy of the city, and she had made it abundantly clear that she would not conform to their so-called civilized mores.

But she did not know this city, did not know the people, the language. Had no coin, and quite frankly had no idea how to get out of the city. And yet.... And yet, she was still poised to get to her feet, and try. She was not as strong as she had been when she had last fought, but she was not so far gone as to be incapable of handling herself. She hoped, anyway.

She waited.

 

[Gale]

There were things that Gale could respect about Vel Anir. Their pro-human ideology being one of them. But they weren’t Oban, they had awful wine, and whoever these goons worked for they certainly didn’t have any sort of plan in mind that benefitted her.

What had started as an evening to find some coin quickly turned into a drunken haze until she woke up in this cell. Must have been one of the few in Arethil made with concrete, metal bars, metal chains, and a bunch of wood bearings. If it were stone she’d be free already. Her geomancy would’ve let her carve a path straight out of here. But the thin layer of concrete flooring made it so she could feel the ground beneath it but not interact with it. Other than the dirt the guards trailed in with and the few pebbles she had collected and stuffed into pockets there wasn’t any way for her magic to help her here.

And to top the whole bloody mess off, she was fucking freezing. She woke up in a sparse cloth dress with tiny pockets that prevented any of the chill from stinging her flesh. It was like they wanted her to spend her entire day curled up in a ball in the corner. Maybe that was what they wanted, it’s not like they were looking to be generous hosts.

Further down the hall metal scraped, footsteps neared.

”It’s way past time for that,” she said with a rasp to her voice. She was starving today and the rations they had them on were meager enough so you were never quite satisfied. Just enough so you didn’t completely wither away. ”hurry up over ‘ere before I pass out!”

It was gonna be fine. She’d propel one of the pebbles she had collected straight into the guards cranium. Hopefully near enough so she could drag his unconscious, or hopefully dead, body towards her and retrieve the keys.

Didn’t know how many people occupied this holding station. Didn’t really care. Anything was better than squattin’ around and waiting to die.

 

[Aeyliea]

It was not really dark in here, but neither was it light. The man making his rounds was no fool, though. It was not feeding time, though; then there would be a couple of people carrying the slop bucket that they doled the meager rations from.

She shifted on her bench, and finally slipped from it. She was not chained to the wall or anything like that, but she still wore an iron collar that they used to chain her in place whenever they needed to do something beyond give her food and water. The cold band of iron chafed, and was like ice against her skin.

She slipped to the wall on the one side of the cell, and slunk along it, coming alongside the bars. The cell was of an open style, and rather than an iron bound door it sported a thick iron gate that opened into the wider hall. She stood at the hinge, waiting for the warden to come close enough.

"Ha, I see you are up and about," the man said as he came into view. He was walking along the middle of the corridor, not close to the cages themselves, and the unpleasant grin on his face made her want to scream in frustration. "Hope you weren't planning anything...rash," he added.

She grinned at him, all teeth and no mirth. Her eyes were like chips of ice. "Come closer," she crooned in her native tongue. "See what I am planning, beast." Her words meant nothing to him, though; the people of the plains were of course a known quantity, and it was very much possible that there were people in Vel Anir that could have translated for him, had they wished to.

But she was a condemned criminal, and there was no need to listen to anything that she said. "That's cute, pet." He laughed at her. "Try speaking a real language, and maybe we can have a conversation." He took a step forward, and she lunged at the bars, catching hold of the chain mail he wore.

She got a fist in the chest for her trouble, and let go with a cry of pain that seemed out of keeping for the blow she had been delivered. Her ribs had yet to fully heal from the barbarian guarding the caravan she had raided, and were very much tender to the touch. The warden laughed cruelly as he turned away. "You get to go to the block or the gallows, savage. You have no place in civilized society, anyway." His words faded as he moved away, still chuckling to himself. "Any of you other wretches want to try today? I haven't beaten anyone bloody for a while..."

She huddled on the ground, coughing and spitting thick phlegm to the ground, huddled around her injury. White fire flashed through her head, an unbelievable rage towards the man, the city, and all its filthy, murderous people. if only she could be free...

 

[Gale]

There was a commotion a few doors down.

Words in some foreign tongue that Gale didn't understand. Whatever squabble they had ended with the threat of death from the guard. And then that was punctuated by Gale's rumbling stomach.

She was completely famished and she was starting to think that whatever this guard was doing here wasn't going to conclude with him rationing out that slop they called 'food' to the prisoners. That was gonna be a problem. See, Gale wasn't really a model prisoner to begin with but what really got her blood boiling was when her captors just left her.

To starve.

In this frigid hole with nothing but some cheap cloth to keep her warm.

"Boss man," she called again with hands cupped this time, "where's the grub? If you're plannin' on starvin' us why not just slit our throats and get it over with?"

Their host didn't seem to care much for that suggestion. His face looked like a bright cherry from how flushed his face had become. His boots stomped on the rough ground beneath him, kicking off wads of dirt that had likely been caked on mud the night before. He barked at Gale, "you have a death wish lady? You'll be wishing you were dead once I'm finished with you."

The guard pulled his club out with one hand and inserted a key into Gale's door. That was all the geomancer needed to decided that this was her opportunity to make a dash for it. The pebbles she had collected soared out of her pocket and sailed through the air towards the guard who was still fidgeting with the keys. As he turned the lock to open her gate he looked up just in time to see the dozen harsh rocks a centimeter from his face.

Her aim was off. A few of the pebbles slid past him, two barely grazed his cheek, but one caught him square in the eye, the other created a crimson gash in his lip, and one impaled his nose hard enough to elicit the audible crack of a broken bone.

Gale rushed towards the gate, finished turning the key, and pried the door open.

She grabbed the guards club off the ground and began bashing his skull in. One satisfying strike at a time. Her stomach kept rumbling, but the rush of adrenaline made the pain of hunger a distant memory.

 

[Aeyliea]

So it turned out the warden was an idiot after all. The blessing of a fool with a set of keys was not to be taken for granted, but there was still one problem: The keys were not in her hands, but rather his. She could see, from where she was at, the door come open, though, and that made her pause.

And wonder.

She closed her eyes, and reached for the Wild, but in this place of stone and iron it was difficult to find. The simple acting of seeking it seemed to make the thing coiled on her soul stir and open one lazy eye, if it even had such a thing. The feeling of malice and menace seemed to heighten a notch, and she quickly ceased trying to gather the power of the open skies and empty plains. It hadn't worked when she had sought it in the past, so there was no surprise that it failed now.

The woman that emerged from the cell looked no better or worse off than she herself did, dressed in simple prisoners' linens, just as unclean and unwashed as she herself was. It was no surprise to her that it was one of the fair skinned people that lived in the cities, soft from soft lives and with little respect for the land and their own ancestors. Aeyliea sat, hugging her injured sides, and stared across the wide corridor, and watched as the woman bludgeoned the guard - whom had been dropped by unknown means - to a pulp. A violent one, doing violent murder. To Aeyliea, it meant little. This was a common enough thing to mete out to the trespassers in her lands, although seldom among one another.

She did not want to do what she knew she had to. The civilized folk were a two-faced lot; ignorant and deceitful. But she had the keys to get out, and that was the only thing that mattered. As soon as the door was open, she could just take her chances and flee.

She made a gesture to the woman, and called out in the traders' tongue as well. "Girl," she said, accent thick. She pointed to the lock, but her eyes remained on the woman herself. There was no real reason for her to even pay any mind, except perhaps to create additional distractions and aid in both their escapes.

 

[Gale]

Another loud whack reverberated off the walls and metallic bars of the cell block. Gale raised the blood soaked club high and in an exasperated voice cursed at the guard, ”that’s what happens,” she gasped at oxygen, ”when you can’t even feed yer prisoners!”

The instrument collided with his caved in skull once more. He was long dead but the rush of it felt nice. Freeing in a sense.

Her lungs heaved in more of the crisp air as a bead of sweat actually formed on her brow. It clumped her already crusty hair even worse, sticking some of her bangs to her forehead. And then a voice.

One word: “Girl.”

It said so little but communicated so much. Normally the Obanese treasure hunter would be content to leave this kid to rot down here. But she had no clue how many other guards this place had. How bad their odds would be from here on out. And all she had was a few pebbles and a wooden club.

She thumbed the keys out of the tumblers of her cell. Twirling ‘em around her calloused fingers with a slow whistle. Gale looked at the savage woman still locked in her cell and emitted a final, and high pitched, whistle. ”Do. You. Understand. Me?”

Her words were slow. Deliberate.

It was true that she likely would need the help to get to freedom. But she needed to know she could at least communicate with the other prisoner.

”I. Let. You. Out,” she pointed at the cell before moving her finger towards the light at the end of the tunnel, ”then we bust our way out. OK?” That last part was at a normal pace but she nodded her head with enthusiasm, hoping the captive understood.

 

[Aeyliea]

The coppery scent of blood wafted through the corridor, and she sat a little straighter, letting her arms fall to her sides as the unknown woman approached. Her eyes were sharp as an eagle riding the thermals, hard as stone. She did not flinch and shy away as the killer approached her cell.

She nodded slowly as the woman spoke in the slow, deliberate manner of someone either talking to a small child, or else someone that shared no common language with them. Given the expression on this woman's face, the look in her eyes, it could be either. Aeyliea did not care. She wanted out of this freezing hole, back into the sun and clean air of the plains. This little adventure only stoked the fire of her rage against the cities to a new height, and she could hardly wait to spill blood again. It was enough to make her wish to learn the talents of the shamans, finally. At the notion circling in her head, something twitched, and she felt pain that had nothing to do with her flesh and blood as whatever it was tightened its grip on...whatever.

"Out," she said flatly, eyes hooded as she shifted to a crouch. "Know let me out," she said in the trader's tongue, accent so thick it was likely difficult to understand. She shifted into her own native tongue for a moment, a language with a certain cadence to it that nevertheless bore no resemblance to common. "The war has not started yet," she hissed, and shook her head. "Two as one, until out," she added in trader's tongue once more.

She stood up, muscled frame even more slender than it had been before they had thrown her in here. And yet, it was not the soft body of a petty criminal. It was the body of a warrior, with the thin scars on arms and legs that hinted at the hard life she had led.

 

[Gale]

She eyed the woman over through the bars of the cell that divided them. A brow cocked, a small smirk forming. So she did understand common, even if her accent made it obvious she wasn’t comfortable speaking it. That was a start.

And, judging by her physique the girl would be an asset in a fight.

”Yeah, we stick together,” she said while fumbling with the keys, ”at least long enough for us to leave this here hellhole.”

Twisting the appropriate key in the hole caused the locking mechanism to perform an audible click as the tumblers fell out of place. The iron fencing swung out towards Gale as the hinges creaked and echoed off the dark walls.

With the bloodied club in one hand and the keys in her second she addressed the wildling, ”Name’s Gale. Try not to bash my head in and I’ll return the favor.”

Her sandy hair shook as she used her face to gesture towards the light at the end of the tunnel, waiting for the other prisoner to proceed first.

 

[Aeyliea]

She watched with shadowed eyes as the woman went to the door and worked the mechanism that had held it shut for weeks. The words she spoke were difficult to follow, and Aeyliea could only pick up every other word at times - Gale spoke quickly in her language, and some of the words she used were foreign to her entirely.

No sooner had the woman opened the gate than had Aeyliea moved, quick and with purpose. "Aeyliea," she said as she brushed past the city dweller, eyes already looking up and down the corridor that the former had been standing in but a moment ago. She eyed the fallen warden, the idiot who had let stupidity walk him into his death, and scowled. No weapons to be had. That was fine; she was skilled with hands and feet as well. "No fight now. Maybe later," she said, accent thick.

She paid only cursory attention to the murderer, only enough to track her motions. She padded on bare feet that bore enough callousing that she did not need boots, yet anyway. And she moved silently, the only sound the soft swish of the shift she wore. She stalked down the corridor in the direction the warden had come from, and paused at the door there. It was iron banded wood, ancient and thick and likely quite heavy. She stood there, motionless but for her breathing, listening intently for anything coming from beyond.

 

[Gale]

Gale gave a curt nod as her fellow prisoner informed her that her name was, “Aeyliea.” She stood motionless as the woman moved past her like a ghost. So quiet, so fluid. The geomancer made a mental note to keep an eye on her, didn’t want someone like that on your bad side. Likely to kill you before you even know she’s there.

Her own feet padded the rough ground, though not as swiftly or as silently as her new friend. No fight now, maybe later? Her lips formed a slight smile. She could respect that.

Once they both arrived at the old gate the Obanese woman stared for a long hard minute. Voices could be heard faintly in the distance. Takin’ about whatever scumbags talked about when they had prisoners. Gale lifted the club, thinking to bash at the bars before stopping and remembering she still had those keys.

With a quiet jingle she held the keys out towards Aeyliea and whispered, “be my guest.”

 

[Aeyliea]

She snatched the keys without a word, and did the same thing with them that the other woman had done. The first key did not work, and neither did the second and the third. Despite working her way through keys, she was not reckless about the amount of noise she made with them. It was clear she intended to maintain some level of stealth for the time being.

She held a hand out as the key finally clicked, and the audible sound of the tumblers turning was surprisingly loud in the relative silence of the dungeon. Aeyliea pushed the door open a foot or two, and held a forestalling hand back as it creaked open about a foot and half. The groan of hinges that could use some oil echoed through the corridor beyond. The talking had stopped a few moments before, and had been replaced by the sound of someone scratching on something.

The next part relied on some luck. Her straining ears could hear only one person, she was sure of it, but the had been talking to someone not very long ago. She stood back from the gap, soundless.

"What the hell," a woman's voice came, a mutter in the dim passage. "Rourk, you fuck, you left the door open again," she snarled. When there was no immediate answer, the woman huffed and the sound of something scraping against the floor - wood, by the sound of it - echoed.

Footsteps, muttered words. Aeyliea stood there, aware of Gale behind her but focused nearly exclusively on the sound of the approaching footfalls. Closer. Closer.

A shadow fell across the gap in the door, and she waited a moment...and then acted.

Aeyliea moved like flowing water, cruling around the jamb of the door and popping up in front of the very surprised guard. The woman, with a look of nearly comical shock on her face, gasped and took a step back. It was not fast enough; the savage woman lashed out with a flattened fist, striking the woman just below her chin, dead on in the throat. The crunch of cartilage was an audible pop as her larynx collapsed. Wide eyes of shock went to fear, and then helpless terror as hands came up to a ruined throat; she struggled to breath and could not scream, which was entirely the point. Aeyliea stepped forward and enfolded the woman in an embrace. hand searching along her rump and waist until she found a dagger that was more of a short sword than anything. Chocking, making strangled noises and still in her embrace, Aeyliea slid the knife in quietly between the ribs of the woman's side. Chain was inadequate protection when it could be pushed up, dragging the tip of the knife while at it, to do the deed.

The woman stiffened and dropped from her arms with a strangled mewl of pain, and was silent. "Come," Aeyliea said thickly, searching the dead woman for anything else of use. She stripped the belt and the sheath from the dead woman, and strapped them on to free her hands.

 

[Gale]

Aeyliea simply opened the door.

So nonchalantly that it was almost like she owned the place. Like she was just going to go grab a bite to eat or whatever her people did. But instead of parading forward she stopped. And Gale froze too, at the sounds of nearing words and steps.

Gale’s heart was practically exploding out of her chest, she debated whispering something to Aeyliea but refrained for fear of the approaching guard overhearing. Just then, right as the female adversary came near, the other prisoner sprang into action.

It was so quick that the geomancer barely processed what happened. ”Holy hell,” she thought as the blade was buried deep into its victims flesh.

Clearly this woman had done this before. That was good, they’d likely need to kill a few more times to escape this mess. She went low, club to her side and pebbles in her pocket, following near to Gale as quietly as she could muster.

Once they reached the end of the hallway they could see a square room, sconces burning on the walls, and a large round table. Three guards, two human and one halfling, munched away at what appeared to be bread and some kind of dried meat. Her stomach still ached from the hunger pains.

After seeing what her fellow prisoner was capable of Gale wondered if the two could take ‘em. Though, it might’ve made more sense to try and remain unseen. Tapping the other prisoner on the shoulder she pointed one finger at the guards before pointing another at the far pathway. She shot a look that said, “your call,” and held her breath for the response.

Whether they bashed in skulls or slunk away she didn’t much care. So long as they were in sync.

 

[Aeyliea]

Tangled white hair shook as she gave her reply in the negative. Food was appealing after so long kept just alive, but three armed individuals against two with inferior weapons were not good odds in her book. If they could keep the element of surprise, it might work out...but though only a dozen feet or so from corridor to the first of the lounging wardens, it might as well be miles. Aeyliea was confident they could strike down one before the others could react...but after?

She faded back with slow, stealthy motions, to the stripped guard. Blood made for a sharp twang in the air as it slowly pooled and congealed. The savage woman stopped and listened for a moment; conversation, faint, carried on ahead. Weighing options, she turned and headed down the other direction away from the square room and its compliment of guards.

They were on a timer, now. Either of the dead would be found, sooner or later. Stealth was the option to use now, while they could, but eventually they would be pursued. Logic dictated she make as much headway as she could before then.

The passage continued on for a little way, cold stone beneath her feet rough and damp. An intersection led two different ways, but she did not hesitate, heading right. It ran a short way, before a staircase heading down a dozen steps to an iron gate, rusty but maintained. The sound of water could be heard beyond it, both flowing and dripping. The reek of ammonia wafted through the gate as well.

Aeyliea wasted little time with the key ring, sorting through keys to unbar their way.

 

[Gale]

It seemed flight was gonna beat out fight today. While normally shirking from a chance to beat the lights out of some garbage like those three would irk Gale she was willing to make an exception this time. Truthfully, Aeyliea had likely come to the smarter of the two options despite the Obanese-born explorer’s bloodlust.

The pair hurried down a separate walkway, down a narrow staircase, until the rushing of water could be heard.

While the other gal fumbled with the keys Gale kept her eyes trained on the duo’s rear. Ears perked up in case anything moved.

”I don’t much care for gettin’ all wet,” she said in a low voice. Water was annoying, it dampened her ability to feel the earth. To use her magic. The idea of walking through some nasty waterway that came up to her hips wasn’t appealing. Not even a tiny bit.

Once the way was cleared she moved through in front of Aeyliea, worried if she didn’t get it over with quickly she might have a change of heart. That’s when it hit her like a slap to the face.

The stench was overwhelming. Putrid scents of filth filled her nostrils only after she was knee deep in the stuff. A loud gag erupted from her lips before she regained her composure and formed the words, ”sorry. They usin’ this as a sewer? Let’s get moving.”

Splashing and swishing was inevitable as she waded through the fetid waters.

 

[Aeyliea]

She did not immediately commit to entering the unclean waters, standing on the edge with her nose wrinkled in distaste. The odor was like a slap in the face, but as powerful as it was, it was only a little worse than gutting some wild animal in the summer heat of the Savannah. What she did not relish was the thought of wading through whatever effluent was mixed in with the green-brown water. She muttered something under her breath in her native language, then made a complex warding gesture with one hand, trying to fend off the foul spirits of those condemned and the demons that rode their souls. Only then did she slip into the sickening flow.

The passage was only just large enough to permit a human to walk through it, with the fetid water thigh high along most of its uneven length. It was clearly old workings, and the reason for its size was also evident; it was designed to allow workers to repair it as was needed. Fresh brickwork showed clear patching amid the older, slime encrusted stone of the original structure. Hooks every so often along the wall would have hinted at the places where workers could hang lanterns.

There were none, now. Only the very faintest light from bioluminescent fungi gave any definition to the pitch darkness of the underworld they now traveled in. Emptiness yawned occasionally on either side of them, passages leading elsewhere in the darkness. The all consuming darkness. The darkness was filled with the unknown terrors of the underworld, as Aeyliea knew it to be. Demons and wandering spirits rejected by the Mother, seeking a way into the mortal world. It was a part of the training she had undergone, although she had never really paid nearly as much attention as she should have to that training. She had wanted the glory of the spear, of riding into battle with the hated people of Vel Anir and any who dared trespass on their ancestral lands.

Here, in the darkness, the things the shamans had spoken of seemed more...real. And Aeyliea was here, in the darkness, without her charms, without her warding fetishes. Alone. The woman she traveled with was an outsider, and could neither understand nor aid her in the defense of her soul against everything that swirled in the darkness. She could feel it, right there, breathing down her back. And with every step, her breathing quickened and her heart ramped up.

And then the passage ahead was blocked. Iron bars, stout and unyielding, barred any further travel down the sewer tunnel, and panic began to rise in the back of the No'rei's head. She could not turn around, she found, and likewise found herself with her back pressed against damp, slimy stone, breath coming short and fast.

Locked in place by the strange and unpleasant specter of terror, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

 

[Gale]

Something was troubling the white haired girl. Gale couldn't see her face too well with how dim this place was but her body language said it all. She didn't think on it too long though as she was distracted by her bare feet trudging along every dirty piece of filth and bile on the floor of this water passage. Soon as they got free she was going to go find a hot meal and a hot bath. Fill her belly and clean the stench of this experience off her.

Once they had slogged through the thigh-deep waters to the iron bars she wasn't allowed the luxury of ignoring Aeyliea's anxiety any longer. The other prisoner pressed herself against the algae-slime-filth covered walls of this place. Her breathing seemed to increase rapidly. Gale couldn't hold her tongue, "'ey, what the fuck? Are you ok? Is it the smell? I know it ain't a bouquet of flowers or somethin' but I've almost gone numb to it, I'm sure you'll get over it soon. If you need to vomit go for it."

No dice.

She couldn't tell if the girl couldn't understand her or if she just got the whole thing wrong. "You don't like water? You claustrophobic? Gimme somethin' to work with here doll," she reasoned trying to subdue her annoyance and appear truly concerned, "can't have you causing a scene, we got no idea what's up ahead and I like our chances of surviving this place a lot more if there's two of us."

A thought began to rush through her head as she switched her focus away from the girl and towards the iron grate. Something was different down here. They didn't use the cheap crap or poured concrete. No, this passage was older, they had used stone. Real stone, natural stone. None of that faux nonsense the folks in Vel Anir or Alliria used to skimp on costs.

"It's these bars, right lass? Don't worry, I can take care of 'em," she said with a deep exhale. A twitch of her finger and one of the stones started to vibrate, growing in intensity, until one of the bars popped loose and fell into the sewer water, creating a small splash. In a few moments she'd dislodge enough of the stones for the two of them to climb through and push forward.

They'd make it out of here, even if she had to drag Aeyliea along with her.

 

[Aeyliea]

"The Wild is just as it states, child; wild, unruly, and full of chaotic elements that would sweep up and devour young souls, turn them and twist them to dark purposes." The Weiri, bent frame lacking so much as a single scrap of spare flesh, regarded his pupil with cold eyes. The young child with the white hair, marked by the Wild and by the Ancestors, stared back at him with bored, strangely defiant eyes. It required far too much effort to get the youngling to listen. She was, for now.

"The things that exist in the ethereal realm where the Ancestors continue their hunts across the endless wildlands are anathema to the mortal world. And every time you call upon the Wild to use its power, you light a beacon fire that can be seen across the unfathomable reaches of that world. You will draw unspeakable things to you as a lamp does a moth, but unlike the moth - who will simply die in the fires - it is the fire that will be snuffed out. Or worse."

Gale's words did not register. In the darkness, she could see the nameless horrors lining up, one after the other, to claim her soul. When she was young she had not heeded the Weiri's warnings about the perils of the Wild, and she had used that sacred power reluctantly since. But not reluctantly for fear of what was out there; she felt that the tools of blade, bow, and shield were far more effective and therefore had never really thought of the unbridled weapon that was the Wild - the magic, as the outsiders would call it - and its many potential uses.

It wasn't until Gale physically touched the woman that she snapped back into the real world, the waking world. She took a stuttering gasp, and registered all the things that had come to pass. The way was open, moving forward now, and she slipped past Gale without another word. Her heart still hammered hard enough in her chest that she though her ribs would break. And she moved like one who was pursued. The elegance and predatory grace were both gone now, and she mvoed forward with seemingly reckless abandon, ignoring side passages that showed themselves as vaguely darker sections of wall. She did not pay attention to the fact that the water seemed to be moving a little more swiftly now, and was growing shallower until-

Aeyliea dropped out of the tenuous view of the other woman with a splash and an involuntary shriek that echoed worryingly through the tunnel. She tunnel sloped sharply downward now, but not very far - a dozen feet perhaps, before dropping away entirely. At least there was more light here, more real light - not day light, but the light of torches or lamps, coming from a hole in the ceiling.

As to Aeyliea? She plummeted into a pool of noisome water and slipped entirely below the surface of a much larger, deeper stream of effluent. By the fiery light from that hole in the ceiling along one wall, it was possible to make out the ledges on either side of the waterway. A moment later, the white-haired woman reappeared, coughing and gagging as she struggled to get to one of the walkways and get out of the stinking mess.

 

[Gale]

As Gale worked on the bars Aeyliea zoned out entirely. Another of the stones shook, another stone fell, and their path became more clear. By the time she had turned to face Aeyliea the woman looked absolutely comatose.

"Uhhh, you okay?" Her question was raised in a louder voice. No response from Aeyliea followed. Her face scrunched in concern and she walked over to place a supportive hand on the girl's shoulder.

A gasp, movement, and then rushing forward through the hole she had created.

Gale's mouth dropped, shock and awe felt overwhelming. "What the," was all she managed to get out before Aeyliea vanished downwards and a high pitched scream was audible throughout the corridor. So, there was a hole somewhere. And, more concerning, lit torches.

Light meant someone, or something, had been down this way before.

Gale proceeded forward, sludging through the water and stench until she reached the hole that Aeyliea had fallen down. It looked like deep water below with what she could see from the torchlight. She brought both calloused hands up to cup her mouth before looking over the opening and shouting, "Aeyliea! OK?" Keep the words simple.

She still wasn't sure if the woman really understood common too well and frankly she wasn't about to go diving into some tepid pond if it was dangerous. Wait for the response and then she'd join her fellow escapee.

 

[Aeyliea]

She managed to make it to the ledge, and after a moment of gasping and coughing, she pulled herself up over the lip. And then she vomited the entirety of the foul river up, until she was sure her toenails would be floating away in the flood that ran over the lip and back into the slurry that flowed past. The stench was even more overwhelming now that she was bathed in it, and the thin shift was stained a horrifying grey-brown, clung unpleasantly to her frame.

She sat down hard, back against the cold, wet wall and shivered for a moment. "Ok," she said in a muted voice. It carried, but only just over the sound of flowing water. Not far down from where she sat, dripping filthy water, a rusted ladder climbed the fitted-stone walls, rising to the hole where the light came from. There was no movement above, no shouts of alarm despite her piercing shriek. All was silent above as well as below. "Only one way down," she observed for the other woman. There was no ladder there, only the cascade of fetid water from the smaller passage into the bigger one, creating dirty looking foam that scudded on down the water into the pitch darkness of the tunnel beyond. There might have been some amusement in seeing another subjected to the same debasement as herself, but right that moment her sides ached abominably, especially on the side with her barely healed ribs.

The laughter would have been slightly manic anyway. The creeping doom she had felt before her plunge had not left her, and was in fact every bit as strong.

 

[Gale]

Aeyliea called back. That was a good sign, she hadn't died and wasn't drowning or dealing with some creepy crawlie in the open waters below. "Guess I gotta come down," she said reluctantly.

Despite the realization that it was the only option Gale absolutely did not want to go down there. It stunk far worse than the smell in the narrow pathway they had been waltzing through. There was light piercing through the ripples and falling liquid but that only made the sight worse. The lime-tinted waters looked like they were coated in the miasma of filth that called these sewers home.

She gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and announced, "comin' down."

The dive was quick, air whistled past her ears and rushed across her face. Her hair stuck up and twirled around in the wind, fluttering in a wild fashion until the big splash at the end. She flailed in the large pool of water, coming back up to the surface and gasping in oxygen. Gale swam over to the same lip Aeyliea rested on before climbing up on the opposite side of where she had vomitted.

Wringing some of the dripping grotesque liquid out of her hair she looked over at the other escapee, "you ready to move on?" They needed to keep moving, Gale craved the fresh air and sunlight the way a starving animal gets ravenous for food.

 

[Aeyliea]

She stared into the darkness, but whatever creeping doom had held her fast before had loosened its grip. A little. Enough. Darkness is the home of the disillusioned, and abominations of all life. Words remembered, despite her time spent trying to avoid learning any of it. And with the words came the nagging sense, somewhere deep within her, that she was not entirely alone. It had nothing to do with Gale. either.

"Yes," she replied in a raspy breath, spitting the taste of bile and worse from her mouth again. She rose unsteadily, shook her head, and pushed past the other woman. The ammonia reek of her stoned clothes quickly lost the sharpness, as did the fetid stench of the sewer behind her as she reached the ladder and started up it after making sure she hadn't lost the long knife she had captured from the female guard from earlier.

The gate at the top was, quite surprisingly, not locked. She pushed it back and it opened on greased hinges. The passage beyond was much like the corridors of the dungeon, but there was better lighting and it appeared much cleaner. The scent of the sewer did not reach up into this place, and only their own stink fouled the air.

Aeyliea stood atop the portal into the bowels of whatever this place was, holding the gate open.

 

[Gale]

Aeyliea had taken the first plunge, seemed only fair she go first this time. As Gale crossed through the grate held ajar by Aeyliea she let a sigh of relief escape her lungs. This place wasn't drenched in the foul smelling sewer water and the path was lighted by flame rather than bioluminescent vegetation.

She wasn't sure if the path ahead would lead to an exit or if it headed back towards the holding cells. She pushed ahead regardless, whatever lie ahead couldn't have been as bad as the stinking waterway they had just ascended from.

Her feet tapped softly on the uneven stones underfoot. A doorway to her left caught her eye as the rest of the path continued onwards. The geomancer approached the threshold cautiously, peering in slowly until she confirmed there weren't any guards inside. She noticed a set of barrels as well as what looked like a worn book shelf with various pieces of parchment, scrolls, and a few leatherbound tomes.

Against the far wall though she could see a weapon's rack and various crates and chests. Her eyes zoned in on one particular piece of equipment hanging from the rack.

Her shovel. She had taken it with her ever since setting out from Oban to explore Arethil. Hastily she made her way towards it and retrieved the instrument from the rack it dangled from. For good measure she grabbed a shortsword off the same rack before turning her attention towards one of the opened chests.

Inside the chest lie a pile of her clothing and a knitsack with some of her belongings. She scooped them up before turning around at the entryway and whispering, "looks like we found where they took our confiscated stuff."

 

[Aeyliea]

Ghostly echoes of the terror that had left her transfixed still thundered around her mind, offering images of horrors unseen, without encounter. Worse, they spoke of some fundamental flaw in her soul, a lack of courage or of steely determination that ran counter to the cold-blooded ruthlessness she always perceived herself displaying in a fight, be it with the city dwellers or other clans.

It made her feel less, made her feel like a fraud and this was something she had never encountered before in her life. She was always confident, full of her own capability. To be without it broke something inside of her, and it took all her will to hold the pieces together after.

The pair of women proceeded along in silence, neither sharing a thought or a word. Both were locked inside their own worlds, behind their eyes. Aeyliea wondered if the other had demons stalking her the same as she did, but thought it unlikely.

Aeyliea hung back as the other went into the room, ears peeled for the sound of approaching voices or footsteps, one hand curled tightly around the hilt of the knife, waiting for the need to draw and spill blood with it again. Secretly, she yearned for that; it would tether her back to her confidence, restore faith in self that had been eroded in darkness. Alas, no one was unfortunate to come upon them. The halls remained empty and silent.

She looked up when the woman spoke, trader's tongue quick and easy on her lips. Eyes underscored with circles darted from the things in her hands back to her face, and with a last look to the corridor, she turned and followed back to the crates and things. She looked around at the items stored here, but did not see-

There. A sack with the top half of a feather poking out. The shaft of the feather was broken, and she felt her spirits sink lower; the magic that the feather had carried would be lost, now. She reluctantly picked up the sack, drawing the strings loose and staring inside. A flare of hope, then; within, the beads and bones, feathers and other things that she had been wearing in her hair before. The ornaments looked as primitive as they were, but gathered as they were they seemed to radiate a quiet power that was only just palpable to the pair.

"The Wild, it watches," she whispered more to herself than to her companion. The trader's tongue was as thick as ever. She emptied the sack on top of a crate, and sifted through her things. Her shield and spears had been cast aside before she ever reached the city in chains, and her armor had been discarded before she got here, too. She didn't need those things. She didn't.

Many of the beads were broken, the stones scarred and scratched. The feathers broken. The power that had been held bound in them was scattered to the four winds...but not all of them had been. She held up the bone of an eagle, polished white with a hole running through it lengthwise. Another, a blue stone, and another, the feather of a hawk. Others. Maybe a dozen in all. She didn't have the time to work them into her hair like she would normally, but she brushed the broken charms to the floor and collected all the ones that were still whole, drawing the strings tight and tying it to her belt. After a moment, she looked along the weapon rack and saw a pike with a spearhead of steel a foot long. She selected this, cocked her head to one side and then unceremoniously put the shaft against her knee and snapped it with a loud crack. The sting of splinters in her knee was easily ignored, the spots of blood running with the fetid water still dripping from her soiled clothes. The remaining section of spear was much shorter, three feet or thereabouts in length. It was of the size she was most familiar with wielding.

All she needed was a small shield, and she would be set.

"Go, we must," she said in a low voice. She was still attired only in the prison garb, but with the spear, the knife, and her charms, she felt that she was at least somewhat prepared for what came next.

 

[Gale]

Gale nodded at the proposal that the pair continue moving. Only after she had shed the dirty fabric she had been given and changed into her old clothing of course. A rough cotton shirt, hardy brown leather trousers, and a pair of reliable boots. Nothing fashionable but very practical.

”Yeah,” she said while adjusting her shovel via a strap over her shoulder, ”let’s move.”

Aeyliea’s beads and other adornments were odd to Gale but she saw no reason to pay them mind. If it made the other woman feel at ease that was good enough for her. Her hard soled shoes stamped on the dirty stone floor as they proceeded onwards. Just ahead shadows danced on the wall.

It meant there was fire. And the motions of the shadows meant movement.

When she peaked across the threshold she saw two guards, one at attention and the other adrift in slumber. They were near the only exit of this path. Perhaps it would be possible to subdue one of the guards without waking the other but it seemed unlikely to her.

She stared back at Aeyliea in contemplation.

 

[Aeyliea]

The passage split ahead, but this time, only one path led anywhere of note. The corridor leading to the right led to a small room, a guard post perhaps, or some room used in some capacity by the two men who were down the other direction. They stood guard, both so bored that one was already asleep and the other stared at the far wall with the disconsolate look of someone that could use a little excitement in their life.

There was a good fifteen paces between the corner where they took refuge and the men standing watch on the door. There was no thought of sneaking past, even could they; the gate was likely locked, and they likely had the keys to it. It was hard to tell what part of the complex they were in, or what it even was after the trip through the sewers, but it was unlikely to be freely open.

Aeyliea tested the balance of the spear in her hand. It was about as good as she could expect, given the nature of how she had made it. She wondered if it would fly true enough if she used it as a missile, and relied on the knife she had confiscated.

She looked to gale, and made a snap decision that did not include consulting with the other woman. It was about that point in time the guard that was awake stirred, nose wrinkling in distaste. "Alice, you vile woman, is that you?" A muffled non-answer came in response.

Aeyliea stepped out into view unceremoniously, wound back with the grace and ease of long practice, and let her missile fly. There was a moment where time seemed to stretch out like taffy, that moment from release until impact. She was already drawing the knife and starting forward, taking in that they were wearing chain and leather, both armed with short stabbing swords and steel armlets.

A second ticked by. She took a step.

And the impromptu missile, due to some fly in the release or the simple fact that it had been altered, shortened...missed.

It struck the sleeping woman in the chest, striking a spark off of the chain vest and again as it caromed off into the stone wall, chipping the edge of the weapon. The woman snapped awake with a startled cry, even as the man - easily a foot taller than Aeyliea - sprang back in surprise, already drawing the sword at his waist. She had covered two thirds of the distance, careless of the woman behind her, before he had it out, and her first strike drew a bloody gash along his chin and cheek, narrowly missing his eye. He took a defensive swipe at her, the short weapon perfect for the environment, and she had to fade back maladroitly to avoid being gutted like a gazelle. The woman, recovering from her shock, was also drawing her weapon.

This escalated quickly, the white-haired savage thought. She sought, again, for the Wild, but it was as elusive now as it had been in the cells, and did not heed her call. She twisted away from another attack, this one from the woman, and then pressed hard for the male. She had to pray that Gale was not flat footed and was not averse to fighting someone that knew it was coming and could defend themselves; for herself, there was no extricating herself from the fray without taking wounds, and so she pressed as hard as she could.