Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

53

Stolfas charged the group before Assu could try again to talk him out of the risky, almost certainly suicidal, plan, his axe held aloft in one hand as he readies one of the small firestarters in the other. It won't burn for long, but he just wants a distraction as he hurls it to the ground a few feet in front of him, casting away the darkness from his form. And a distraction it is; even Assu is momentarily riveted by the sight of her friend standing proud, surrounded by the flickering orange glow of the burning netherrack, his axe gleaming and casting splintered reflections onto the wall as he places both hands on the haft and swings for the first sentry, bludgeoning their chest and throwing them against the wall.

We can't fight to maim if we want to survive, he had decided as he told Assu his plan.

The plan.

Assu jerks to attention and bolts for the window, hearing a shout as she passes the group of sentries. One who's further from Stolfas and his blade cocks their crossbow, firing at her. She yelps as the bolt nicks her ear, tearing the thin flesh and then passing by her shoulder to embed in the wall. They follow her, beginning to nock another bolt, but she takes the chance and dashes at them, taking a haphazard swing at the hand on the crossbow; her blade collides with the wood of the sentry's weapon with a dull thudding sound followed by a crack as she wrenches upwards in an attempt to knock it out of their hands.

Her sword pulls out of the wood, but the crossbow stays, and she jumps back, turning to continue escaping towards the window. She hopes she crippled the bow beyond use.

Her hopes are proven false as she hears the crossbow loading, and the sharp thwick! of the bolt being released; she ducks, suspecting they'll aim higher in hopes of hitting her somewhere incapacitating, or better yet, lethal.

Her suspicion proves correct when the bolt collides with the wood above her.

She's still moving, running to escape. And yet this feels cowardly, and wrong—she's leaving Stolfas, who has been nothing but a loyal friend and ally, even despite his moments of reluctance, behind. Leaving him to die.

It feels like she shouldn't leave, shouldn't run. She SHOULD stand and fight, it might be two against seven, but two is better than one.

She can hear him bellow from downstairs as she throws herself down the hallway, searching desperately for the window that she knows is on this level. Stolfas is a brute; born to fight, trained to kill, with a fire in his blood that is meant for combat. Brutes are trained to die, and go gladly to a fighting death, believing it a high honor to lose their lives while locked in the throes of combat, fighting with every last bit of their being.

But he's her friend before that. He's her friend, and letting him die for her recklessness feels...
Assu takes a deep breath, and her hands find the windowsill.

...like something a tyrant would do.

She jumps onto the ledge, preparing to jump down—she takes a brief moment to gauge where she'll land, straining her eyes to glimpse the ground. All the usual light from the bioluminescent plants is gone; providing the darkness that weighs heavy over the hellish dimension during these hours.

Footsteps behind her is the only thing she needs to make her jump, and she falls through the darkness of a Nether night, onto the ground feet below.

As she jumps, she hears something whistling through the air, and she feels her arm burn with agony as burning metal tears flesh, digging into her muscle as she jerks her arm, her landing upset by the interference.
Her ankle rolls under her, and she falls forward, stumbling to her feet and trying not to move her arm as she struggles to think past the pain and follow the path, trotting into the darkness, into safety; leaving Stolfas to fight his battle.