Private Tales The wrong place

[Maranae]

She shrank back from him, lost in some terrible memories of her own. Those brilliant green eyes were wide with fear and apprehension of the unclothed man.

She shook her head in the negative. 'N-no! Master andhelpers only hurt Mara," she stammered out. Eyes darted to the door as if expecting the men with the long, thin batons to be standing there. Dripping blood, her blood, all over the scrubbed floors, faces dark with some deep emotion.

"Only Mara," she said, rocking back and forth again. "They called Mara a failure and hit her with sticks and leather," she added. "Don't hurt Mara too. All of them are asleep now. They don't hurt Mara anymore..."

A poisonous viper in the back of her mind regarded the Nordfallen with suspicious eyes, using Mara's own flesh and blood to observe the world outside. It could still taste the blood, rich and sweet on its tongue. Could still hear the horrified screams, feel the sting of steel.

It hated the child that was Mara, despised the weak thing that it was. And it distrusted the non-human in front of it even more, addled though the man was.

 

[Baise]

He couldn't help but let her behaviour drive up the tension he felt. Valthar let his eyes fall to the remains in the corridors. The master had helpers. Were they hungry too? Why would she lead them down here into this?

He had never been a man of broad imagination. His world had been small. In some respects that was a small blessing here.

"I won't hurt you," he reiterated. "But we shouldn't wake..."

His whisper trailed off suddenly. Mara had said that they were all asleep and he had taken that literally. But they didn't hurt her any more. She had said that in a particularly final manner.

"We shouldn't wake them up," he added tentatively.

 

[Maranae]

She stared at him, rocking back and forth. Looking into his eyes, though he could not see her as well as she could him. Searching those eyes for any hint of malice, any threat unspoken. There was none there, although something else seemed to be blooming within.

"No," she said in a small voice, coming to rest at last. "They will beat Mara. Stay asleep they shall." She sat, still, and regarded him in the darkness. Some of the woman that Valthar had initially net seemed to reassert itself, then.

The viper coiled in the recess of her mind, watchful but drowsy, now that the potential threat had passed.

"Man-who-is-Valthar still needs clothes," she said, half asking and half stating. She released her knees, looking like she would rise. Still wary, though.

 

[Baise]

"Yes," he said with a firm nod. Concern at his state of undress managed to surface again, but it was mostly drowned out in the fear of what might yet lurk on this place.

The Svalen, his soul or at least the more primitive part of it, looked back at Mara. The scent of death was too strong for it to settle. The people here weren't asleep. They were dead. Bodies strewn about with the rest. Mara didn't look like she could have done that. Was it the 'master' or something worse? He had heard tales of fearsome predators that lived beneath the surface.

"Where could I find some?" he asked. Then he would need to find out where a town was so he could leave this foul place with purpose.

 

[Maranae]

Perhaps having a task to direct her attention took some of the edge off her fears of forthcoming abuse, because she brightened considerably when he asked his question. There was still a shadow of suspicion in her green eyes, open in more than one way, but she wore a child-like smile that seemed to display openly the same level of innocence.

It seemed a touch tainted by something dark, though. Hard to pin down why, however.

She took him by the arm with soft hands that still bore surprising strength, enough to actually move a man apparently more massive than herself along. The carelessness of it, without regard to whether he either wanted that touch or if she might hurt him in the process...spoke of a true naivety in dealing with people.

She pulled him along into the hallway, becoming more and more at ease as she went, until she was chortling about getting him clothes so he could 'be decent', all the while making it sound as if she had no idea what that statement even meant.

The passed the stairs leading up and out, the stagnant, cloying air stirred a little here by the faintest trace of fresh air. But she did not go that way, instead pulling Valthar along in an iron grip into the passage going deeper into the foul smell of rot.

"Master has clothes you could take," she said happily. The smell of blood, sickeningly sweet, filled the air. To her eyes, the walls were splashed with it rather thickly, the floor sticky. The occasional bit of bone crunched under foot, or torn lump of flesh. It was probably for the best that the Svalen did not have the gift of sight in complete darkness.

"Is not far, only a few doors down," she chirped, seemingly oblivious to the horror around her.

 

[Baise]

The hair on the back of his neck - and everywhere else - stood on end. It felt as if he was being dragged into the depths of the world to be devoured like all the others whose remains he had seen.

Some resistance was given to that unnaturally strong grip around his arm. Doing so nearly had him slip from his feet. The ground beneath his bare feet was slick and treacherous.

If master has clothes I can take, then he must be human-ish. Valthar realised that he was perhaps hanging onto that thought in desperation. He knew that he should never have followed her down here, but now some part of him felt that he had to keep going until they reached the end of the tunnel.

"Are there any torches down here?" he asked.

 

[Maranae]

Deeper into the tomb.

"Torches?" The woman sounded perplexed. It was not that she did not k ow what they were so much as not understanding why he would want them. She did not like fire very much. Perhaps it was the fact that it had been used on her during the more...violent experiments had a lot to do with it? Regardless, she could see just fine and assumed that he could as well. "Mara has no way to make fire. Many fire lamps on the walls," she replied, gesturing with her free hand to all thr cold, dark fixtures on the walls.

They came to a corridor splitting off from the main, heading down stairs into deeper darkness. Ahead, some very faint light spilled into the corridor, turning the pitch dark into sepulchral gloom. It only served to heighten the creepy feeling of this place.

The light turned out to come from a doorway, the door shattered to splinters and pieces all over. The pale light came from a window, curtains drawn to keep the light out.

But there was enough light to see the horror within.

A pair of bodies - unidentifiable before taking into consideration decay - lay in pieces just beyond the portal. it was impossible to say if they were men or women; one hand, arm ending in jagged, blackened bone and shredded, squirming flesh, still clutch a sword. Evidently that had not been enough. It was hard to say which rotten part belonged to who, so terrible was the damage. It looked like an enraged animal had been at them.

At the back of the room, one other body. If the others had been savaged, then this one was something beyond even that. Bones were shattered, bits of pale pink visible in among torn flesh, uncoiled viscera spread around the victim. He, like the others, wore tattered robes.

Mara looked into that room, and visibly shuddered, releasing Valthar at the same time. "Bad men," she muttered, some of the sweet tone gone. "Clothes are in there for man-who-is-Valthar." She did not make any move to enter herself.

 

[Baise]

"I can't see in that darkness," he explained.

His eyes fell upon the sword. He could feel the Svalen within himself now. The new markings that stretched over one shoulder and down over his chest itched. They showed all that he had connected with his soul. Despite that the length of solid steel would provide some reassurance.

His gaze scanned the room. There had to be a flint somewhere for lighting the torches. Valthar didn't want to go back through the corridor reliant upon touch alone.

"Mara," he started to ask. He turned to face her, as heedless as she was at the state he was in for the moment. "Are there clothes through that door or...whatever did this?" He waved towards the bodies as he tried to fight back the nasea climbing his throat.

 

[Maranae]

"There are clothes in the wood box," she said, pointing to a wardrobe the other side of the window. "The bad one is not here. The bad one left." She sounded a touch afraid now, enease painted in her face, not that the Norden could see it.

On a dresser next to the wardrobe, the desired flint and steel lay.

Mara did not budge from the door, preferring to stay in the hallway, which was decidedly less horrific than the Master's bedroom. Even if the Master was as dead as someone could get. Involuntary twitches of her fingers and hands went unnoticed by her, eye gleaming in the way of an animal, reflective to the dim light, from the hall.

 

[Baise]

He didnt care to try and figure out what that even meant. It was all too much for the young man who had barely strayed from his home town. He'd barely strayed from the path between his house and the docks, on account of the fact that the inn was on that same route.

He stepped delicately across the room. He didn't take the flint on account of not yet having any pockets. Opening the wardrobe, he pushed aside the heavy robes and the flowery garments. A simple tunic and pants would do. The shoes looked a close enough fit too.

A plan was slowly forming. It was a small plan, easily swallowed up by what had come to pass and the situation he found himself in. It was a small, Valthar sized plan. He could see all the steps and imagine walking them.

Clothes kept him decent. The flint meant he could make fire. A sword was a poor substitute for an axe for cutting down wood but could do. It would also give him a sense of safety on foreign roads. He could hunt, particularly if he trusted his Svalen. The air here was so warm he doubted he would need anything but soft grass or moss to sleep the nights in open air.

He took the flint when he was dressed. He tried to keep his gaze level and not look down.

"I think Mara, I might take a torch and go back outside. Can I take this sword?" he asked slowly.

 

[Maranae]

She did not understand why he asked her if he could do things. Maranae was far more accustomed to being told what to do by the people in this place. No one asked her anything, except if she could do certain things. No one had asked her anything since the Bad One had been here, weeks before. Even the concept of weeks was beyond her, especially since she rarely came above ground.

This was her place of birth. It was a strange birth, a frightening melange of pain and sorrow, of magic and science. She felt a connection to this place, and the wider world beyond was frightening.

"Mara does not care," she said. She still did not enter the room, though. "Mara is happy that man-who-is-Valthar is happy. No one has ever been so nice to Mara before," she observed.

And then dropped into a crouch, suddenly. She appeared uneasy, head cocked to on side so that her red hair fell over her face. "Someone comes," she said in a whisper, looking back the way they came. Where she got the notion of someone approaching was anyone's guess; the mausoleum of a facility was quiet except for their breathing.

 

[Baise]

His mouth hung open in shock. When Valthar realised this it made him question how much of the time he had spent with that expression on his face. How could no one have been nicer to her than this? What was this place?

The plan. The plan was small and didn't have room for such questions. There were more pressing matters. Like trying to peel cold, dead fingers from the leather-wrapped handle of a sword. He was too busy trying not to think about just how hard he had to tug each finger in turn to release the weapon.

"Someone? Who?" he hissed, assuming that she might have some clue who might be left alive in here. He drew himself up, sword in hand. There was something just a little bit more human about him than there had been.

 

[Maranae]

Something about her crouch would have been enough to trigger some to a kind of existential dread. There was something feral about it, despite the fact that nothing had changed outwardly. There was a readiness there that had not been before. The image was further enhanced when she dropped down onto all fours, staring back the way they had come, heedless of the ichor sticking to her fingers now.

"Mara does not know...," she said, practically whining like a child would when asked a question they didn't like. "Man-who-is-Valthar cannot hear them?"

But if there was anything to hear, it was too low for any but her to hear. She got to her feet, moving down the passage the way they had come in that feral crouch, eyes intent on the darkness ahead. And suddenly, a voice broke the silence, defying the logic of survival in any situation such as this.

"Hello! Anyone down there?" It was distant, likely from the surface, from the entrance that they had come in. The red-headed woman stopped in her tracks, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Bad men...," she whispered to herself, under her breath. She began to tremble ever so slightly.

 

[Baise]

A click and a hiss was followed by a woosh. The corridor was suddenly a dance macabre as the shadows of the dead found life. Valthar stood behind her, pulling the torch from its mount on the wall whilst keeping the sword in his right hand.

The horrors before him were more worldly, yet just as disturbing as those he had left behind.

Mara's sense of hearing must have been exceptional. That, or the buzzing he heard after the shift back to his human form had left him slightly deaf to certain pitches.

"Do you know them?" he asked. He was trying to meek his voice calm and level. He was only partially successful. Valthar took a half step forward. He was holding the sword, which in his mind made a difference in the situation.

 

[Maranae]

The woman still trembled, but she sniffed at the air delicately, as would some kind of animal. The wrinkling of her nose foretold of distaste at what she picked up. "Mara does not know all of them," she said. Which meant that she knew at least one of them. How exactly she could pick out the scent of one man among many, and more over, in this stink, was impossible to believe. Acute hearing? Sense of smell?

...yes. To go along with eyes that could see in pitch darkness, and were particularly attuned to movement.

Maranae moved forward with an uncanny grace. And she moved nearly soundless, at that, her bare feet not making a sound, and the whisper of the fabric on her body muted as though it were being supressed in some way. Surely that was just some fancy, some trick of the mind. Just then, the girl did not look quite so human anymore. Like a stalking predator. The effect was somewhat ruined by the sweet face, twisted with open unease, perhaps even fear.

"Maybe bad people," she said. The tremble was in her voice too, now. In the same manner a beaten dog would tremble before its master when said master was in a foul mood, hand raised to strike. The only thing that kept her from cringing back was the fact that the master was not here. "Many of them. Maranae does not know," she said, the admission half a plea as if her inability to determine their number was somehow a thing to be punished for. She made her way down the passage the way they had come, stepping over the remains of at least four or five people, maggots crawling in bloated flesh no less torn to pieces than the three in the chambers of the Master.

 

[Baise]

Valthar had taken the form of an animal just minutes ago, but they were all animals really. Forming their tribes. Us and them. Despite having little context on what had happened down in this dank abode he stood behind Mara and looked down the length of the tunnel for any sign of them.

"Maybe bad people," he repeated. He paused to slot the torch into a mount on the wall. Its glow at least provided enough flight to see what littered the corridor floor to the natural light coming down the stairs. It might have been better to let it remain hidden.

He wrapped both of his hands around the sword and lifted it higher. The corridor was narrow, no room for swinging it around. Valthar was more used to chopping down with an axe anyway.

He felt a sudden streak of anger that caught him off guard. Valthar had always been a quiet, unassuming fisherman. A disappointment when compared to the legacy his father had left behind, at least to some. Perhaps connecting with his Svalen had brought forth some of the rage that his father had always carried with him into battle.

"If we need to fight them, I'd be more use outside," he said. It was probably too late for that. They must have been heading down the passage by now.

 

[Maranae]

At his words, she paused. There were no footfalls in the passage, no subterranean echoes to mark out the interlopers. In fact, there was no evidence that there was anyone here at all. beyond themselves anyway. If it had not been for the voice, one could be forgiven for thinking that the red-haired woman was a touch mad.

"Mara does not want to fight," she said in low tones. Some strange emotion was buried in her words, something stronger than simple negation at the notion. She continued up the passage, picking her agile way through the corpses until she reached the passage heading up. She looked up the way they had come, dead torches lining the passage, and then looked back to Valthar in a meaningful way. She still trembled ever so slightly, but the look she gave him was almost one of reverent adoration. Like a dog for its master, or a child for its parent.

"Must escape bad people," she mumbled to herself, eyes dropping from the man down the way, bathed in firelight and now clothed as most of the people in this place once had been. She looked up the passage to the surface once more.

 

[Baise]

There was something off about the young woman. That had been apparent from the start but it was only getting worse. There had been a lot of weird today. More than the rest of his days out together. Right now trying to sort through that and rank just how strange things were was beyond him. Valthar could just about cope with dealing with what was in front of him.

There was no sign of the 'bad men' but he had heard one of them call out before. He peered up the passage, looking for any sign of them.

"Trying to fight uphill would be bad," he said simply. "Is there another way out?"

 

[Maranae]

She shook her head. "No. The gate is locked. Mara tried, but could not force." Recalling the tremendous strength in her grip, it was easy to imagine a portal sealed with steel or stone, too strong to budge an inch. Perhaps the Svalen might have more strength at his disposal, but it was unlikely to make any difference.

She then started up the passage, silent as a ghost. That slender frame could move with surprising stealth. Stepping over the remains of the dead, she ascended the steps until she was far enough back to remain hidden in shadow, but close enough to see the shapes of men above.

There were a dozen of them, and eight of them wore armor - half heavy steel plate mail, the other chain over leather. All had swords, the men in lighter armor also carried spears. Visors hid the faces of the mean in plate, but the light armored men had their faces exposed. There was grim determination in their eyes, as well as a little fear.

The other four wore robes, and had a particular scholarly appearance about them. There were two men and two women, and the men carried bows with them. All four looked scared spitless, staring into the portal with white faces.

"Well?" It was one of the men in plate. "Lead on. It cannot have gone far."

One of the women shook her head. "Should not one of you lead? We are not warriors," she replied with a touch of the sickening fear that she felt touching her words. She looked into that dark, open maw leading down, and did not move.

"It could still be here," said another of the robed researchers. He fervently hoped that was the case. None of this was supposed to be happening; there were supposed to be failsafes preventing escape into the wilds. And that a failed experiment could do this...

"You know we have been on contract for this purpose for the last few years," the first nameless man said. He lifted the visor on his helmet with mailed hand, revealing grey eyes and narrow features. "And you knew the risk when you signed on. Lead on, you know the layout better than I."

"Sir?" It was one of the spear wielding men, pointing with his spear down into the darkness. "I think I saw something move down there!"

The man turned to face the passage. "If you are a survivor, come out! We are here to help!" A hand dropped to his sword, though. Just in case.

 

[Baise]

Valthar couldn't see all that well up the stairs, but he could make out the silhouettes of those that had started their descent. Some of them wore armour in the fashion of the mainland. He had heard tales of that. Thin metal sheets light enough to be worn as armour.

It took but a glance to decide that they couldn't fight their way out of the tunnel. His breath quickened and he took a slow step back into the darkness.

The man wanted to talk to survivors. Was that both of them? Mara didn't seem to believe they were here to help, but her grip on reality seemed tenuous.

"We can talk to them or hide. If they split up we might be able to make a run for the outside." His voice was barely a whisper.

 

[Maranae]

She could see them quite clearly, them and their hard skins, their sharp stabbers. She could remember the pain of being struck by them, the wet heat pouring down her flesh, as if it were someone else's memories, but vivid still. She backed down the passage.

"No way out, no way out," the young woman said, panting. Her eyes looked wild, the language of her body vibrating the same terror she had displayed when she had fled from Valthar. But Valthar had not hurt her. The ones in the robes...

Their scent, she remembered it well enough. A low whine escaped her throat at the memory, a different one and entirely her own.

"They do not talk to Mara," she said, panicky. "Only tell her what to do. Hit Mara if she is not fast enough." Trembling, fear. "Mara knows the she-helpers, and the he-helpers. Knows not hard-skinned ones."

They called out again, seeing if there were any who could hear them, then started down the passage. One of the robed ones picked a torch from the stand on the wall, and with a flare of light, ignited it. One of them vomited noisily, hand against the wall and bent over. One of the armed men laughed, but it was nervous, not at all full of bravado. They could all feel the weight of this place.

"Man, what happened down here?" It was one of the lighter armored men, holding with great distaste a lump of foul flesh. "I've never seen anything like it."

One of the robed women, face past pale bordering on green, shook her head. "I cannot believe that beast is capable of this," she said, voice sounding sick. "The damned thing never showed the slightest predilection to violence..."

Ears sharp, Maranae backed down to the intersection, casting pleading looks to Valthar.

 

[Baise]

With a frantic wave he back down the first corridor. If the other direction had still been completely dark he might have slunk back that way to hide. However, there was a fresh torch burning on the wall in that direction. He hoped it might draw some of the intruders that way.

Valthar pulled away slowly, remembering to place his feet down carefully. At least he had shoes on now so he didn't have to feel the gore between his toes.

A beast, part of his mind said. The part of his mind that wasn't frantically thinking about escape. They had been keeping something down here. It made sense.

The robed ones didn't seem to be spoiling for a fight, but the others sounded like real soldiers. The kind of hardened man that could sell their trade to the highest bidder.

"Which room?" he hissed as quietly as he could. There were several doors to choose from. It was down to chance now. He needed few enough between him and daylight that they couldn't stop his charge.

 

[Maranae]

She looked panicked at his question. How was she supposed to have an answer for that? For anything? She was told what to do, either by words or by force, and that had been her lot in life until not very long ago. How she had come to be free of that...she did not like to think of. Thinking was not her strong suit, that was what the others were for.

Right?

Without thinking, she darted down the passage, silent as a snake despite the haste. She ducked into the second room on the left.

Within, all was as dark as everywhere else in this place was. The room itself was large, easily seventy feet in length and twenty wide. Cages lined one wall, the bars ripped open at the fronts. Whatever they had been holding here was not to be found, except for more of the same carnage found elsewhere. Bones, much smaller than humans, and feathers and hide here and there. Some of the bars were coated with blood turned black.

The center of the room was dominated by a pair of tables, and then a larger counter towards the back with broken glassware and paper scattered everywhere. One human corpse lay back there, as well, splayed on the ground, one arm on the other wall. The stink was appalling in here, but it was better than outside.

The sounds of the others could be heard outside, their words muffled. An exclamation of disgust, someone being noisily sick again. Footsteps.

Maranae went to the back of the room, where a walled off office stood. The furnishings within were overturned, the chair behidn the desk broken. She went to a corner, and crouched low, beginning to rock back and forth, eyes as wide as they would go.

 

[Baise]

With a deep grimace on his face, Valthar pulled the door shut behind them. Being just a few inches from the hinges the slightest creak sounded as if it would alert the whole group clanking down in their armour to their presence.

Valthar turned and recoiled at the scene. In some ways it was almost reassuring. The broken cages and equipment put him in mind of some of the stories told of the humans on the mainland. Heedless of the travesties of the past, they built great cities and experimented with magics that should be left alone.

Perhaps Mara was just a simple servant of a wizard whose ambitions had outstripped his abilities and sense of danger. Deep down he knew it couldn't quite be true, but round pegs could go into square holes if it let him retain some sense of mental control over his reality.

Valthar padded as quietly as he could after Mara. She was down on the floor rocking again. There wasn't the time for it now. There would be fighting, he was certain of it. If she stayed here then she might get left in this picture of hell.

"Mara..." he dropped to his haunches, the sword flat across his thighs. His thumb gently flicked across its edge. Sharp enough, but he would rather a hammer against that armour.

"...hide behind the door with me. When I say we're going to make a run for it."

It occurred to him that if they got penned in then at least he could draw forth his Svalen in this wide chamber.

 

[Maranae]

At her name, her eyes focused on the man before her. She did not cease her rocking, her quick breathing. The level of distress was almost painful to behold, and perhaps - just perhaps - out of keeping with with the situation. But that was the trouble, wasn't it? Valthar was in a part of the world he had never been before, in a situation that none could truly relate to. And the woman before him...

The look on her face was almost pitiful to behold. His willingness to take the lead and her seeming inability to make her own decisions were bad enough, but the way she looked upon him now, child-like adoration and trust... It was unnatural, and even he knew it though he tried to delude himself into believing otherwise.

Mara nodded silent ascent, her rocking ceasing. She seemed to reorient herself with Valthar as the pivot, as the pillar that held the whole world together and gave it meaning and a semblance of sense. She slowly rose, seeming somehow smaller than she was as she huddled in close to the man.

"Mara will do what Valthar says," she replied in her childish way, crowding in close. "Mara will be a good girl," she added with a hesitant smile.

Out in the corridor, something crashed, banging heavily, and her eyes darted to that portal, trembling starting anew. That had been only one door down from them, she knew.

They were coming. They were coming. They were coming, the bad men, and they would hurt her again. Her lips moved silently to a heartbeat cadence, speaking the words over and over without sound.

--

"The blending room is in the lower levels," one of the women said to the soldier that was in front of her, blade free of its scabbard. All of them felt the oppressive quality of this place, could feel the echoes of the horror that had taken place within.

It was then that the young woman was questioning her choices in life, the ones that led her to come here and work for some Allirian lordling with enough money to finance something like this. Magic was...well, it wasn't a sacred thing, not in the same way that the deities that various people worshiped were. But it was something fundamental, inviolable. And it had seemed to her, ever since graduating from Elbion and striking out into the world, that it was so often misused.

What they had done here was not...well, it wasn't right. The laws of magic were inviolate, as anyone could tell you. The blending of magic and twisted, alchemical science...

Oh, the horrors they had created here!

"We'll worry about the lower levels after we clear this stinking floor," the man said. His heavy armor clanked loudly as he moved down the passage, the sickening crunch of bone fragments beneath booted feet making her already queasy stomach even more so. His companion, lighter armor rattling a touch as he moved, grunted in agreement. "Gods above, but I've never seen anything like this before," he added, sounding disgusted.

Even the professionals were unnerved.

Down the corridor in the other direction, the sound of someone retching again. It was worse back towards the berthing area of the facility, where many of the people had fled when the beast got free. The memory of it left her nearly wetting herself again. The dark shape, corded with muscle and fur and teeth and claws, tearing down the hallway at breakneck speed. She could see, in the eye of memory, the blade of one of the enforcers plunging into the beast, the howl of rage and pain....before the wash of blood as the thing tore the man in half. Literally.

She jumped when the door to another of the rooms lining the corridor was kicked in and bounced off the wall within. Holding a lamp aloft, the lighter armored soldier looked in the room. A strong odor came from here, almost strong enough to overpower the stench of death. Herbs and chemicals, things in jars and vials, in bags and in sacks, lined the storage room. It was the only place in the entire complex they had seen that had not been ransacked.

"Don't see it in here. Besides, if it had been in here this would all be tore to shit too," the lightly armored man said in gruff tones. He hefted the sword, and if the woman didn't know any better she would say that he was getting a feel for the weight for the comfort it brought him.

"Maybe it ran away," she said. She really wished for that to be true, while at the same time she wished it was not. if it had remained here, the only home it had ever known, it would be easier to find and dispose of. Otherwise..

Otherwise, they would have to spend a great deal of money on bounty hunters and adventurers, and there was no telling how many people would die. All of it in the name of some Lord that wished to play God, to create something he could use to some unknown end. Never before had she questioned the purpose of their research.

She wished she had.

The heavy soldier moved to the next door, preparing to kick that one in too. She suddenly wished she were outside again, with the four soldiers holding the portal outside. She hadn't signed up for this.

She wanted to go home.