Okay, what now? The floor was uneven and though her hands were bound behind her back, she managed to roll over and sit up. I still can’t believe I’m in this situation. I don’t have a neuralink connection, but I’m sitting here and I can feel how cold the stone floor is and I can smell the old, stale blood in this cage. What in the actual hell is going on?
Dried blood covered the middle of the floor and she could see hair hanging from the bars. The cage was large enough for a horse to lie down in and its bars were set into the stone. I hope that’s just color from the game design and not what they do here. Everything now seemed a little more ominous, threatening even. I should really be freaked out more than I am right now. Perhaps my stats are keeping me calm? Or maybe my perception of my reality just hasn’t been challenged hard enough yet. She took a deep breath. Okay lady, this is just a video game. Let’s not turn it into an existential crisis. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she saw a strip of dried flesh hanging from the top of the cage. Or maybe this is an existential crisis dressed up as a video game. I don’t even know anymore.
While the other torture chamber had been dusty and dark, this one was lit by a pair of burning braziers that gave her an excellent view of the fresh blood that decorated the room. It was spattered on the walls, it was pooled below the chains along the wall, it was stained along the walls of the iron maiden, and it even stained the floor of her cage. There were corpses as well. Two recently deceased goblins inhabited another cage along the opposite wall. A man flayed of all his skin hung from the ceiling. And finally, a butcher’s pile of limbs, heads, and other assorted body parts adorned the corner adjacent her cage.
I need to get out of here. Her heart was racing so badly that her head began to throb. She needed to calm herself. She could do this. After several deep breaths, she began to twist her hands against the rope. Turning, twisting, and pulling, she worked at the rope for several minutes before she finally felt the chords begin to stretch and loosen. Just a bit more and I think I can maybe slip my hand through.
A scream rattled the door. It had been a man, but whether the scream had come from fear or pain she did not know. Then the locks slid and the door flew open as a portly devil lurched into the room. He was a black scaled devil, the type native to the third level of Hades. Sadists, black scaled devils specialized in interrogation and torture and were often employed as such.
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The devil’s eyes gleamed at her as he pulled out a clipboard. “Prisoner zero-one-twenty-eight. Calista Stricthaven. Caught trespassing through a hallway on level four. Punishment is to be administered immediately.”
Oh no. She checked her bonds. She could slip her left hand about halfway through the chords, but not any further. Why does this have to keep getting worse?
The devil sauntered over to her cage where he leaned down and smiled at her. His mouth was so wide that his yellow teeth stretched from ear to ear across his overwide face. His breath smelled like sulfur and carrion. “And just what did you think you were doing here, Prisoner zero-one-twenty-eight?”
Normally, I would say something snappy and fearless here, but just now I feel like begging for my life. She looked up at the eyes of the devil as they twinkled in anticipation. “I guess I was just looking for the nearest cabbage vendor?”
“A sense of humor,” the devil rumbled. “I like that in a woman.”
She shrank away from his stinking breath. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to be pleasant?”
The devil shook his head. “Because, my little beauty, nothing in this world is pleasant. Absolutely nothing.”
Calista closed her eyes as she tried to disappear into herself. This was going to be horrible and she knew it. This Tarkas, whatever he was, was the kind of being who loved handing out pain with a malevolent fervor that bordered on madness. She had never been tortured before. Not really. Not even in the game. The closest she had ever come was when Calista had been caught stealing belts off the guards in Yandmouth. That had been when she had first started playing, back was Calista had been nothing more than a level 12 Delver. Back when Sable Unlimited was still in its Alpha stage. The Yandmouth guards had simply taken her away into the prison and interrogated her. She remembered the dialogue had been a little corny, the guards awkward, the graphics shaky, and the story lines written about as well as a freshman creative writing assignment.
This was going to be different. This was real. Tarkas was an NPC devil designed for a different kind of player than Calista was. She was here for the medieval tropes, the fantasy, and the high adventure. She wasn't into the gore and underworld stuff. So it was that as the devil's eyes gleamed above her, she tried to disappear into another place.