It had been three days since their imprisonment in this dank, awful dungeon… Lance wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. The Romai had already deemed that she was not a Godling, and had been considering moving her to a lower risk, but still heavily guarded cell. She hardly cared… the guilt that gnawed at her conscience was what made her imprisonment nigh unbearable, not the horrid conditions.
She had sold out everyone else, and though she tried to reason that it had been the right thing to do… she still felt foul. They were Pillar-Born, it would be they that destroyed the world and everyone she loved were they allowed to run free. In her eyes they were monsters, beasts that would burn the world in their quests to ascend. Despite these reasonings though, Lance still felt like garbage. She'd come to know these people during their long journey across the Greatbridge, Twindil especially…
It made her sick, both that she'd gotten so friendly with monsters, and that she'd betrayed them. A part of her wanted nothing more for herself other than to rot in this cell for what she'd done… yet another part urged her to escape and right her wrongs, to free Twindil and the others despite their nature. There was also Michael and Cat to consider as well, there was no way that the former was in any good state of mind right now, not if he was in a cell like Lance's. If he was screaming or banging against the walls of his cell, she wouldn't be able to hear it, no sound seemed to penetrate these walls, save for when the slot at the door was open.
That dwarf, Dundale, rarely stopped by to speak with her, but when he did he inquired about her and the Faewood, specifically. He was a curious one, that Dundale, she could tell, so she answered a few of his questions, but never went into specifics about the Bastion or how Watchers operated. When she asked him about Hoplite however, he always fell silent for some reason. It was after the first day that Hoplite became a touchy subject, before that a few other dwarves had demanded that she cease commanding him, which confused her.
They had nearly gotten to the point of violence with their demands, but it had been Dundale that had stopped them, insisting that Hoplite was not a mere golem, but likely a large man within a suit of armor… After he'd said that, she had been questioned about his true nature. The Fanged Guard that had been there had threatened to drain her if she didn't answer truthfully, that he would be able to tell if she was lying. She didn't know if that was the truth, but confirming this essentially saved her from being tortured. This exchange had put a spark of hope in her, maybe somehow, Hoplite had managed to escape somewhere. It was either that, or they had managed to somehow get him out of the Phalanx suit and throw him in a cell, perhaps even one in this jail.
Though, if he was in this same jail, she doubted he'd remain contained. He'd save them all, surely… it wasn't like him to let this much time pass though. Despair filled her as she imagined him dying, being drained by a horde of vampires as he tried to reach the prison. She bit her lip to keep it from quivering- could that have been her fault as well?
Before she could think on it further, the slide on the door opened. "You're being transferred." A deep, unfamiliar voice said. Deep crimson eyes regarded her from the open slot, conveying utter disgust.
Lance stood on shaky legs, her hands still encumbered by the thick wrappings encasing her arms by the elbows down. The door finally opened, one of the Fanged Guard standing in the now open doorway, armored hands clasped behind his back. Two other dwarves stood behind him, aiming rifles right at her.
"Exit the chamber." The vampire commanded.
She kept her eyes averted, not wanting to draw the creature's ire. The three days in this rotting cell had made her worn, tired… The last thing she wanted was to provoke her captors. The monster stepped back to allow her through, for a moment showing the difference between their heights. The dwarf only came up to her stomach, but his forearms were as thick as her legs, with hands wide enough to bend steel.
"We're going to remove the chains around your arms first." He told her, leading through the moist moldy hallway.
The rifle wielding dwarves kept their guns trained on her back as they moved through the hall. Her bare feet practically froze over as she walked across cold puddles of dark liquid. Her long dark hair was a rats nest now, and her baggy eyes struggled to adjust to the new light streaming in from the open door ahead. She felt humiliated at being paraded through the hall wearing only the barest of rags to cover her modesty… This imprisonment had to no-doubt be the worst leg of this journey… and perhaps the last.
"If we can't remove the chains via magical means, we may have to pursue more conventional methods." The vampire told her as they passed into the hall.
Lance squinted, unable to see well as they finally passed into a well-lit hallway, "What do you mean by that?"
"We'll remove your arms, just from the elbow, so don't worry." The vampire said in an attempt at a reassuring tone.
"My arms!?" She questioned, stopping in place.
"Aye, if we can't remove them with magic." He said, "You don't need your arms to survive. Now slave, onward."
Almost on cue, one of the guards behind her slammed the butt of his rifle into Lance's back, sending her stumbling forward from the force. She nearly lashed out with her bound fists, but thought better of it when she met the gaze of the vampire… his red eyes conveying contempt. Gritting her teeth, Lance ignored her urge to fight back, knowing that in her current state, refusing to comply would result in another strike. A part of her still wished to fight, despite her hopeless circumstances. She had just gotten these chains mere days ago, losing them now would make her useless once again- and who were these dwarves to claim them? The chains had chosen her!
Of course, Lance didn't voice these complaints. She just had to hope that some miracle would occur that would free her. However, as they continued through the horribly bright hallways, she began to lose hope. No one came to free her from her shackles as she was led along by the vampire and his two guards. Other dwarves in the engraved halls all pressed against the walls, bowing to the vampire before promptly staring directly at Lance, their eyes conveying pure curiosity.
That's right, they'd probably never seen an elf before in their lives… a part of her felt that it was a shame that she had to represent her species in this state, basically naked and covered in filth like a barn animal; to their ancient rivals, no less. They walked for what felt like an hour, passing through maze-like corridors without rest until finally, they reached an engraved steel door. The vampire lifted a fist, knocking on the door before clasping his hands behind his back. After a moment, the door opened a crack, revealing a dwarf with crazed green eyes and frizzy white hair. The newcomer wore a white coat, his white beard covering his chest.
"Ah… So this is the elf, at least one of them." The dwarf said, "It is so nice to make your acquaintance young lady, I am Malubal, I will be the one conducting your examination, and if necessary, your amputation."
Lance took an involuntary step backwards, which was met with another forceful shove by the dwarf behind her, "Get in there now, slave." He ordered.
"I will be supervising in case of another incident like the one in the industrial sector, if she becomes aggressive, I will execute her immediately." The vampire assured, "So have no fear."
"Of course not, Lord Falewa." Malubal bowed, "It is a privilege to have you observe my work."
"Of course." Falewa nodded, "Get her inside, now." He ordered his two lackeys, who urged her to enter the chamber.
Lance, gritting her teeth once more, complied with the order, stepping into the bright chamber. A stool with tiny rolling wheels sat on the right side of the room, right next to a desk covered in piles of paper. Squinting her eyes, Lance was shocked to see that they all bore the same perfect handwriting. Had Maluba written all that himself? It didn't seem possible, especially with how many papers were there. On the left side of the room was a steel table, a sheet of thin paper laid across it. Disturbingly, there were bindings for feet and legs attached, though it was designed for a much shorter person.
"We'll need to use ropes or chains to adjust for her, the workshops still haven't sent me the appropriate table yet." Maluba said casually, rifling through his desk and coming out with thick bands of rope, "She isn't a Pillar-Born, so these should do just fine."
"Hurry it along." The vampire urged with a wave of his hand, "I have other duties I must attend to today."
Maluba bowed, "Of course, my lord. Lady elf, please sit down on that table there, and lay flat on your back. Otherwise you may suffer." He told her casually.
Lance grimaced, briefly considering if she could somehow flee through the halls and escape. Those thoughts intensified as she saw Maluba pull out a few, quite sharp looking instruments from his desk. He placed them atop it, not caring to clear away the papers as he studied the blades, particularly the steel bonesaw.
"No worries, I won't use most of these unless you expire." Maluba said, again trying to reassure her, "But that shouldn't happen, hopefully."
Lance shuddered, "Can I please just go?" She asked, receiving a slap from Falewa across her cheek.
The blow sent her crashing to the floor, pain stinging her face, "Don't you speak out of turn again slave, or next time I will not hold back."
"Please do not harm my subject any further, lord Falewa." Maluba practically begged, bowing deeply, "She must be intact for my studies, if need be we may simply gag her."
"Very well." Falewa said dismissively, "If you speak again, wretch, you will be gagged. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. Do I make myself clear?"
Lance nodded, wanting to remove the vampire's head right then and there. If she wasn't bound like this, she may have stood a chance with her chains.
"Good. Proceed doctor, consider me an impartial observer, I care not what you do to the slave, just make it quick, be it scalpel or saw." Falewa ordered, tone brooking no argument.
"Of course my lord." Maluba bowed again, "Table, lady elf, please."
Lance complied, sitting on the table before laying flat on her back. Maluba then began tying her down with the ropes, with one across her forehead, arms and chest, as well as her feet. She could hardly move after the bindings were completed, and in vain she tried to come up with a plan for escape. The door was open- No, one of the two lackey's had just closed it, so much for that. Maybe if she could swipe up a scalpel in her teeth, she could quickly blind the vampire before killing everyone else… but the guards both had their guns trained on her, and with her bound to the table it was a useless plan.
She knew better than most how quickly those triggers could be pulled, she'd done so herself once. Lance was fast, but she didn't think she could move faster than that. Lance prayed to whichever god would listen that she would keep her arms… making sure not to voice her prayers aloud. Maluba, strangely, just pulled up his stool, holding his hands over her and shutting his eyes. The old dwarf chewed on his cheek for a few moments before he sighed.
"It's no use, amputation is the only way to get these chains off of her. They are a Binding type, neither raw Foundation nor House-Spell will remove them." He said, standing before approaching his desk, "If we send for one of the Long Lord's then maybe it can be done."
Falewa sneered, "I would not waste the Long Lord's time with such a trifle. Just amputate, cauterize, and be done with it already."
Lance's eyes widened, "Wait-"
A fist struck her jaw, nearly knocking her unconscious in that one blow, "What did I tell you?" Falewa asked rhetorically, "Shut your damn mouth!" He shouted, "Damn slave-stock!"
Lance was too rattled to reply, no one had ever struck her so hard in all her life.
The world spun as Maluba approached, a large bone-saw in hand, "I will cauterize the wounds soon after amputation, don't worry, you won't die from this."
He then brought the blade of the saw close to the flesh of her elbow, and tears began welling in her eyes. Her need for adventure had brought her here, and her treachery had made her deserving of it… perhaps this was what the Pillar-Gods had intended for her… The saw then bit into her skin, but the blade never got the chance to move.
Something made the door open, drawing the attention of the vampire and his minions.
"What the hells?" Falewa questioned, "Is there something wrong with your door, Maluba?"
"Negative." A familiar voice said, right before Falewa's throat exploded.
Black blood shot across the chamber, coating Lance and everyone else in a spatter of dark gore. Inexplicably, Falewa's head detached from his armored body, the spinal cord coming with it. It fell to the ground without ceremony, then the other two lackey's died, their heads becoming little more than puddles as something caused their heads to crush in on themselves, the shattered bits of wet skull plopping to the ground. Maluba attempted to scream, but his throat crushed in on itself, the bonesaw clattering to the ground along with the now-dead dwarf.
Lance's breathing quickened as she struggled against her bindings, but soon she found that her panic had been unnecessary. Relief filled her as Hoplite simply… appeared in the room from nowhere, naked as the day he was born. She couldn't bring herself to care about his nudity, as soon as he unbound her from the table, she rushed into him, wrapping her bound arms around his midsection.
"Thank you." She sniffled, "Thank you…"
Hoplite did not reciprocate the hug, grabbing her by the shoulders before gently pushing her away from him. He then looked her right in the eyes, and Lance gasped. There was a horrid mania in his wide golden eyes now, his bloody hands leaving streaking red trails down his arms.
"It's time to evacuate, soldier, where is your commander?" He asked her in that same, normally flat tone, "The Final Kind are everywhere, we need to pull back to base for now."
"...Hoplite?" She asked him in a gentle tone, "Are you okay?"
"Affirmative, marine, I haven't received any injuries." Hoplite confirmed with a sharp nod, "I will debrief you once we're out of here, there isn't enough time."
He then ripped off the bindings around her arms as if they were nothing but paper, her aching forearms stinging at the exposure to fresh air. Before she could say anything, Hoplite quite literally swept her off her feet, holding her like a baby before becoming invisible once more. Looking down at herself, she saw that somehow, he'd made her disappear as well. Could Hoplite have somehow learned to use Foundation in such a short time?
"How are you doing this?" Lance whispered.
"New technology." He replied flatly.
New technology? He had nothing with him but his bare hands… What was he talking about? Hoplite opened the door once again, stepping into the hall before shutting the door behind him with his foot. Dwarves went about their business, wandering through the halls even as Hoplite weaved out of their path, making his way to an unknown destination. Lance dared not speak, simply holding onto Hoplite as he made his way through the city. For such a big man, he sure could walk quietly when he needed to. Even though they were in a dire situation, she found herself relishing the warmth of his skin… the constant cold of the dungeon had left her perpetually freezing, he may as well have been a roaring fireplace in comparison. A few minutes of relative calm passed before those strange red lights began blaring, the horrid sound nearly sending her hands to her ears.
Hoplite picked up the pace, now running through the hall while still weaving to avoid the now-still dwarves. Confusion was evident on their faces and in their eyes, that with a tinge of fear. A staticy voice then began playing over the intercom, coming from several different sound-boxes affixed to the ceiling.
"Evacuate and lay low, one of the prisoners has escaped. Fanged Guard en-route and on the hunt, have no fear." The voice echoed through the halls.
She remained quiet despite Hoplite's faster pace, with him now full on sprinting down the hall. Quickly he weaved through the dwarves, but the speed of his passage either sent them reeling or blew stacks of parchment from their hands, amongst other things. Lance shut her eyes and just held on for dear life, not opening them again until eventually, Hoplite slowed his pace.
They were somewhere dark now, quiet, with nary a soul to be seen other than her and Hoplite. It was another hallway, but it was in a slight state of disrepair. It was still in far better condition then what her cell had been, there were only a few cracks in the concrete here and there. The dim white lights above flickered slightly as they moved through the hall, making the place feel somewhat eerie. After a few turns, Hoplite found an open doorway.
"This is where I got in." He told her, "Hold on soldier, we aren't through yet, the Yugoro's are right on our tail."
"Yugoro's?" She asked, "Hoplite, we've seen none of those creatures here-"
"Negative marine, they were trying to dissect you. Clearly you've received head trauma, you'll need to be treated as soon as we're out of here." He told her, passing through the doorway.
His normally monotone voice carried a slight edge to it now, not anger… something else. The room was small, perhaps the size of a large closet. Otherwise she could see nothing special about it, all the walls seemed to be whole. How had he gotten in here from this closet? This couldn't have been where the Romai had taken Hoplite after he'd been paralyzed. Hoplite shut the door behind him, again with his foot, before simply passing through the middle wall as if it weren't there.
Lance blinked, turning her head to see that, on the other side of that wall, was a large hole. It appeared as if Hoplite had broken in through there, and had somehow used Foundation to cast an illusion over the entrance. Turning back, all she could see was darkness, when her eyes adjusted, she could see that they were in a cavern. Yet, this section of the cave seemed as if it had recently been dug through, or more specifically, broken through. The surface of the rock here was gray and powdered here, with dozens of broken off chunks of stone swept off to the sides of the fresh tunnel. Hoplite could have used the Phalanx suit to break through she supposed… But wouldn't the Romai have heard Hoplite pounding away at the rock? How did he even know that a maintenance closet would be there, in an abandoned section of the city, no less?
There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but one above all left her lips first, "Hoplite, are you okay? Not physically I mean." She clarified, remembering that she'd asked him earlier.
"Never been better, marine." Hoplite said, again that slightly manic tinge in his tone.
He dismissed the spell keeping them both invisible… and again they made eye-contact. The mania was still there, but now that things were relatively safe, she could see a second emotion, swimming just beneath the surface of it all. She'd rarely seen it in anyone, but it was present in Hoplite's gaze.
Hoplite was deeply disturbed.