Pain. Pain was the first thing that awaited Tyren on this side of consciousness. A sharp intake of breath was the only indication he was awake, followed by a low groan. His head felt like a mass of wet wool, and awareness slowly wormed its way back into his brain between the pulses of throbbing pain. His limbs felt heavy. With immense regret, he opened his eyes but the barest sliver, and had never thanked so many gods that light didn’t try to find its way through the back of his skull. Wherever he was, was dim, and dark. He raised a hand to his pounding head, and noticed the clinking chain that was linked to his wrist. Distantly, he became aware of his predicament, and his heart quickened, but the lump on the side of his head still commanded his attention.

Anyone on guard would have already known he had awoken, but he studied his position as best he could with his head in his hand. According to his memory, he had been traversing a mountainside, breathing deep the crisp clean air as the sun shone hazy through the lingering mists. Like walking up in the clouds. The vast canyons and blue sky had been replaced with walls of stone. A dim flickering light bounced off the rough hewn halls, and the dancing shadows suggested bars obscured the entrance to the nook he occupied. Part of it anyway. Perhaps there had been a door at one time, but whatever the cause it was missing. Instead, he was confined by the spike hammered into the wall behind him, and the chain attached to his wrist.

Panic was beginning to seep in. Cold gripped him, and he realized he sat only in his pants and vest, bare footed and without his wraps or supplies. The glow behind his eyes intensified as he strained to see into the dark cave, listening for foot falls or voices. Once he became satisfied that he wasn’t under immediate scrutiny, he turned his attention to that spike in the wall. He looped a finger though it, and pulled hard. Nothing. Chiding himself quietly, he wrapped his hand around it in a firmer grip, and strained against it once more. Did it budge, or was that his imagination? He became distracted by the inscriptions in the rock that ran across the wall. It was not a language known to him, but as he ran his hand over it, he felt the faintest tug of their old magic as some of his strength waned. Probably something to drain and weaken the captives, but the sequence was interrupted by the iron spike that was his more immediate hindrance. Thank goodness not everyone studied their predecessors. Determined, he wrapped the chain around his forearm, flakes of rust scratching at the soft skin on the underside, where it just caused his scales to lay flat on the back of his arm. He took a deep breath, focusing on his strength, and leveraged the spike against it’s chain as he started to wiggle it. At first, only small amounts gave way, but as stone crumbled to sand, he got more and more from each bend. Another tug showed it still held fast, and he resumed wiggling it.

So intensely focused on his task, and pushing what dim magic he possessed into his muscles, he wasn’t listening any longer. He was not aware of the heavy foot falls approaching until he was bathed in torch light, and his own shadow hid the ring on the wall. As he looked over his shoulder, the expression was more, embarrassed, than afraid, although he grimaced at the figure holding the torch. An orc. Taller and broader than him, its skin carried a greenish hue, and tusks protruded from it’s lower jaw. The jailer was dressed in furs, no need for armor against unarmed captives, and carried a club, that a meaty hand was reaching for. Tyren tugged on the chain, and though the spike was beginning to give way, it still wasn’t ready to become an improvised weapon with which to gain his freedom. The orc advanced on him, brandishing it’s club to give him a matching lump on the other side of his head, but Tyren dropped to the ground. Wood clattered on stone as the club hit the wall. The man kicked at his assailant’s legs, causing the orc to collapse on top of him. A fist collided with his ribs and pain flashed through his vision again. He responded by bringing his elbow down on the back of the orc’s head. It jerked at the blow, Tyren’s enhanced strength surprising it, but no blooded orc would fall to one blow from an unarmed human. The next punch landed in his stomach, and the air left Tyren’s lungs in a rush. He clawed at the creature’s waist, but it leaned into its fist, pushing itself back to its feet and causing tears to well up in the human’s eyes. The orc kicked Tyren, who curled up and shielded himself with his arm, one hand clutched tight across his stomach. The orc then raised the club again, but Tyren made no other move. It reached over him, and tugged on the spike in the wall. Satisfied it wasn’t going anywhere, it kicked him again, and left to continue making its rounds.

He waited for the footsteps to fade, before allowing himself another miserable groan. He unrolled himself, leaning with his back against the wall again. The hand that laid on his stomach, he raised to eye level, examining the ring of keys he had managed to grab off the guard’s belt. It took a few tries, but soon he was loose, and rubbing his wrist. It wouldn’t take long for the guard to notice the keys were missing and come back, so Tyren wasted no time stealing into the cave, sticking to the sides and darkened corners, padding quietly on bare feet as he started to look for his things.

They had caught her by mistake. That's all it was. She had heard stories about the dungeons up in the highlands and was curious to see it for herself. A group of orcs had seen her looking from a distance and had captured her, claiming her to be a spy. There were too many for her to put up a fight, so she went with them, hoping she could figure a way out of the mess she was in. Paradox was escorted into the prison by four orcs, two in front of her and two in the back. Her hands were bound behind her back, as well as a type of makeshift hobbles on her forelegs, so her walk was an awkward three beat gait. She was forced two lift up both fronts at once and put them down before being able to move forward. The progress was slow, but it was apparent the orcs were not going to risk her running off. 

The group made their way deeper and deeper into the mountain. Torchlight was used to light the way down here, as no light could reach to such depths naturally. She looked around her at the heavy stone walls and folded her ears back nervously. Soon they came to a long row of cells. Each cell designed with heavy bars on three sides and a heavy stone wall on the fourth. They seemed very secure and with guards posted periodically along the length of the tunnel, very well fortified. They stopped at one of the sets of bars and one of the orcs in front of her opened the gate. It was assumed she was to enter even before she made a move forward. She was roughly shoved from behind into the small cage, designed to hold an occupant half her size. She had half a mind to kick the orc that shoved her but felt it would not help her case at all.

Carefully she turned herself around in the small cell, the hobbles, and her large size making such a move difficult. They slammed the door loudly behind her, causing the metal bars to rattle so much it made her head hurt. She watched them leave, her ears pinned in anger against her skull. Once they were out of earshot, she looked around her cell, looking for anything she could use to free herself and escape. She was in a cell alone, but in the cell next to her was another prisoner. A younger man it seemed. After looking at him closer, it seemed evident that he was suffering from some condition of the skin, possible disease or transformation, as portions of his body were covered in dark patches, like scabs or scales. In the dim light, she wasn't able to tell what they were. 

Suddenly, the light got much brighter quite suddenly and she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps returning to their cells. She looked up to see a large orc looming over the young man on the floor. She saw them start to fight, the smaller man on top of the large orc. She edged herself carefully up to the side of the cell wall, looking through the bars. Her annoyance at her capture turning into concern. She watched quietly, unable to really do anything to help the man or hinder the orc. She saw the younger man get several hits on the orc, before it turned its meaty fist heavily into the smaller man's stomach. She pressed her face against the wall and hissed angrily at the orc when he started kicking the man when he stopped fighting back. 

How dare he, a coward, kick him when he was down. Her ears pinned and hackles up, she pressed herself against the bars. She growled at the orc as she saw him stand up and turn and walk away. Her ears perked forward after the sound of his footsteps had faded away. She leaned down and looked at the young man in the dim light as he lay groaning and curled up on the floor. "Hey," she whispered to him. "Are you okay?"  She was relieved for the moment when she saw him move. She saw a reflection of the torchlight on something small and metallic in the man's hand. It only took her a moment after listening to the faint clinking of noise that she realized he'd stolen the keys. 

Getting beat up was never fun, but it was the easiest way to get close to someone and keep them distracted. He could have tried harder, but the last thing he wanted was more of a commotion, drawing more guards. Much easier to just, go down. One hand clutched his side as he peered up and down the corridor, stepping carefully from the mouth of the rocky hollow he had occupied. No sign of the jailers, but across the way an incredibly tall woman was watching him. The hand that held the keys moved to his lips, making a shushing gesture before he padded across the way with a wince.

“You don’t look like you belong here either.” He tried a handful of keys on the lock for her cell, constantly checking back over his shoulder. Now that he was closer, her height made more sense. She stood on four legs with her arms behind her back. A key finally clicked in the lock and he pulled the door open. Hesitating for a moment as he stepped next to her. “Uh, sorry, let me just…” He knew of centaur, but the number of them he had actually met were very few, so he wasn’t sure what proper etiquette would necessarily be. As the situation was a bit more urgent, he felt he’d be forgiven for leaning against her side as he undid the bindings on her wrists. “-get these for you.”

Tyren was a decent enough fellow and meant well, but he didn’t know the first thing about horses. He always trusted his own two feet better than any horse, boat or vehicle. He didn’t even think to check for the hobbles on her legs before he ducked back out of her cell. He looked up the way the guard had gone. Would he come back from that direction, or was that a passage to a different part of the caves? “Hey.” His voice was still cast low to avoid bouncing around the stony passage. “You weren’t awake when they brought you in here were you?”

Paradox stood quietly against the side of the bars as she watched the young man get to his feet. She watched with perked ears and wide eyes as he made his way towards the door of his cell. Quickly, he stuck his arm through the bars and turned his wrist so that the key undid the locking mechanism in the door. She saw him swing open the door, one hand reaching out to catch it before it slammed into something. She noticed his other hand was pressed into his side. He brought his hand up to his lips to signal for her to be quiet as he made his way over to her. She shifted her weight as carefully as she could to minimize noise and shuffled awkwardly to the door of her cell. She ducked her head down slightly in order to see him better in the poor light. 

She watched him fiddle with the keys as she kept an eye on the hallways behind him, her ears constantly shifting direction as she heard new sounds echo around the stone walls. It made honing in on the sounds difficult. At last, after what felt like a long time, but must surely have only been a few minutes, she heard the click as the young man was able to unlock her door. He appeared to hesitate as he came to stand next to her. He was a good foot shorter and leaner than she expected, but she sensed from him a type of old magical power. She was careful to move as little as possible so that she wouldn't step on his bare feet. She'd learned early on that human feet were no match against her strong hard hooves. She'd inadvertently crush the bones inside with no effort at all. In this case, a broken foot wouldn't help either of them at all, so she kept still as he reached over her to work on her bonds.

Considering the circumstances, she trusted him enough that she focused all her attention on the hallway in case any more of the guards were to make their way back down to check on them. After a few moments, she felt the ropes give and she was able to pull them apart. She quietly dropped the rope on the floor and reached down to undo the hobbles as the young man slipped quickly out of the cell. The hobbles took more effort to remove but after a short while, she was able to take them off. It was nice to be able to stretch her legs and move freely again. She followed the young man outside of the cell. He turned, seeming to speak to her and she ducked her head, cocking one ear in his direction and one towards the hallway. 

"Yes," she whispered to him. "I remember how they brought me in here. They took my things too before I was able to come inside. I wasn't able to see where they put them. But I think I remember the way out." She took a step in the direction the orc disappeared before turning to look at the young man. She gestured for him to walk in front of her. She gave him a half smile. "If I can see you, I won't kick you," she said playfully but at the same time still serious. She'd much prefer him to remain in her line of sight, especially in such tight areas with poor light. She would hate to accidentally hurt him just because she couldn't see him. She walked through the tunnel, making an effort to step as lightly as possible. Even the faintest sound of her hooves on the stone would ring loudly across the other stones. She watched the young man carefully for any sign of weakness as he went, his arm still pressed against his side.

His stomach sank a bit when he new companion stepped the direction the orc had disappeared. This was never going to be simple or end quietly but he was at least hoping they could’ve avoided trouble instead of walking directly towards it. When she gestured him to lead it was a bit of a relief. She wasn’t exactly inconspicuous with her size and her light coloring. His height and the dark patches of scales on his skin would give him the advantage in the tight quarters. “I’ll try to stay where you can see me then. Just watch your head.” He smiled back and started walking, grateful to notice that she was stepping lightly.

The ceiling wasn’t terribly low, but it was rough. Seemed the section they were in was mined out and not part of a natural cave system. It might have been his imagination, but it felt like they were going down. Up would have been more reassuring. More cells lined the tunnel. Iron barred cages where the path opened up and was wider, hollows dug into the mountain and walled off where it grew narrow. Many of them had the runes painted on the back of them, though none of them sparked with any life or power. Torches hung in sconces on the walls. All of them burned steadily, bathing the path in a flickering light. Probably a more mundane magic, either that or a very busy orc was tasked with constantly running down the aisles to resupply them.

Strange thoughts to have given the situation. The revelry on the logistics of keeping an underground prison was broken by a commotion ahead. Multiple footsteps were pounding on the stone. “Guess they might have noticed these were missing.” He jingled the keys, casting his gaze around looking for somewhere to take cover. Diving back into a cell seemed like a poor idea, and his companion would not easily be able to hide. Three orcs came out of a fork on the right ahead. The jailer with the club, and two others, one clad in iron and holding an ax.

Tyren shifted his feet, putting them shoulder width and focusing for a moment. His scales glinted in the faint light, hardening as he channeled energy into them. His pulse quickened as well and he took a deep breath. “Can you handle the one on the left?”

The one with the armor had clouted the familiar jailer with a gloved fist, and was pointing and shouting at the two escapees. “Put the horse back in her pen! The half breed is too much trouble, put it down!” Tyren ran at them. The orc raised it’s club to strike him, and he urged extra speed from his muscles darting in under the blow and slammed bodily into the orc at full tilt. Tackling the brute didn’t do terribly much, but it caused him to stagger back into the armored one, preventing it from joining the fight with its ax. A growl rumbled in Tyren’s throat and his eyes shone bright as his magic flared, lips curled back to bare his fangs. The orc bellowed back at him, swinging upwards with the club, but the man was still too close. Tyren pushed on the orc’s shoulder with both hands, robbing the blow of any force, before closing his fist and bringing it across the creatures chin, causing it’s head to snap to the side. The orc punched back with it’s other hand, and Tyren raised his arm to protect his head. The hit sent him dancing a few steps, but he wasn’t ringing in a daze. His eyes darted quickly at his fist as he clutched it by his temple, reminding himself of his darkened talons. He wasn’t completely unarmed.

Paradox was careful to keep an eye on her smaller companion ahead of her. She hadn't noticed the ceiling until he'd mentioned it. Looking up, she realized that she was only a short distance from the jagged rock, there were even periods where she had to hunch so should wouldn't scrape her head or ears across the rock. It was rather uncomfortable, that and the narrow hallways didn't help matters either. She would have great difficulty in turning around in the hall. The thought reminded her of a barge going down a river. Turning around could be done, but it was normally a slow, meticulous process, and generally, more a pain than it was worth. She hoped she wouldn't have to turn around. 

She followed the young man down the corridor. She noticed how smooth the walls were, evidence that they were carved by hand instead of by natural forces. The stone was cut too fine to be anything else. They soon made their way to another cell block, with sets of cages on each side of the hallway. Slowly, she made her way down the row, checking each cell to see if there were any other occupants inside. The young man she was with had the keys, so he could unlock anything they needed and free other prisoners. However, all the cells in this block were empty. It was a weird feeling to walk by them and see them empty. She didn't remember seeing them as they brought her down to her cell the first time, but she felt she was likely preoccupied with something else by the time they reached this level.

Along the entire length of the hall, they'd traveled, there were still bright torches, which definitely helped her see in front of her. Like humans, her eyes were not the most well adapted to the darkness, unlike with her equine counterpart. Horses didn't have nearly as much difficulty in poorly lit places. Suddenly the young man stopped, so quickly that she almost walked into him. There were footsteps coming from the tunnel in front of them, and from the sound, she could guess there were more than one. They sounded like they were in a hurry. She looked at her companion as he mentioned something about the keys that he jingled in his hand. Yes, they probably did notice those were absent, and they likely weren't happy about it.

From the fork in the tunnel in front of them, three orcs appeared one of which she recognized as the jailor that had beaten up the man that was with her. She saw her companion freeze and stand still, the dark portions of his skin beginning to glow and she felt his power. She nodded at his question and saw him run after the other two orcs. She turned her attention to the orc that stood on the left as the young man began to spar with first the jailor and then the orc with the ax. She heard someone call to her, calling her a horse and a half breed. She pinned her ears and gave a hiss as she went towards it, her hackles up and alert.

Fighting here would prove difficult. She relied heavily on her speed, size, and agility when in combat. Her equine half was faster and stronger than a man, but she needed adequate space to utilize it efficiently. In these tunnels, there was simply not enough room to do so, even slowing her down at times. Instinctively, she reached for first her bardiche and then for the dagger she kept on her hip. She'd left the bardiche and most of her supplies at her camp for the day, not figuring she would need her weapon to simply observe a prison. The hip dagger she remembered was taken from her after her capture. She had no weapons that she could utilize. She looked around desperately for anything she could use, but nothing was in reach. 

Unable to find anything useful, she strode confidently towards the orc, though shorter and smaller in size, she had no doubt about his strength or his speed in such tight quarters. She'd have to be careful. Awkwardly, she raised her hands up, forming her fingers into fists and holding them in front of her. Not completely sure of what to do, she struck at the orcs face with her right hand. It had occurred to her that she'd never had to use just her hands in close combat. She always had a knife or staff or polearm equivalent to utilize instead. Centaur culture did not have a lot of hand to hand combat like this and she had great difficulty with such limitations. In these tunnels, she could not rear, nor spin, nor kick out with her legs. Her mobility was greatly restricted as a result.

Upon hitting the orc, she was momentarily disgusted at the feeling of soft flesh colliding with her knuckles when her hit met the creatures face. Surprisingly, the creature went reeling back a short distance and she remembered that she'd never punched anything before. Her hand stung and she paused to look at it, rather stunned that her knuckles were already starting to bleed. It was during this pause that the orc retaliated, punching her first across the side of the face and then her stomach. Ringing started in her ears and she took a few steps back away from the orc, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. She felt a throbbing in her side from the second blow and turned to look at the orc. Now she was angry.

She took a deep breath and rushed towards him, extending her arms in front of her. She bared her teeth and grabbed the creature by the collar, taking him with her as she went. She reached the edge of the hall and forced him in front of her so that her heavy bulk crushed the smaller body against the stone. She felt something inside the orc give way between her powerful chest and the wall. Fiercely she pounded him against it, each hit causing the orc to move less and less. Finally, she pulled him upright before smashing down onto him with her forehead. His legs gave way and he crumpled to the floor at her feet. Her enemy defeated, she turned to look back at the young man to see if he needed any help.

The orc brandished it’s club at him, raising it to strike. Tyren hopped back another step as it swung downwards, springing forward again to push the orc’s arm against its side. He was on the outside now, with it’s weapon trapped. He punched again, and his blow glanced to the side, arm extending past the orc’s head. He opened his hand, and there was the faint glimmer of his claws, before he slashed back. Crimson washed over his hand as his claws dug into the orc’s neck. Tyren bared his fangs with a snarl and ripped out it’s throat. With another gout of red, he let the corpse fall to the ground.

There was only one left. It had a metal helmet, and a cuirass that looked cobbled together from multiple metal plates. It covered it’s torso and it’s shoulders. He wore bracers that didn’t cover his hands. A few linked plates hung past it’s waist, covering the upper portion of its legs, and greaves were tied to the front of it’s shins, over its boots. Function definitely overtook form, lacking in artistry, but still offering decent protection. There was no mail or padding beneath though, so the gaps in the armor were exposed. Tyren eyed it’s ax warily. It had a long haft the orc gripped with two hands, and two flat faced blades. The man darted in as the orc swung. Tyren raised his arm, and caught the wooden haft of the ax below the blade on the edge of his forearm, scales absorbing the blow. This orc had not risen above its peers by being simple. It pulled back, hooking his arm with the dull edge of the ax, yanking Tyren closer. It spun the man past him and slashed at his back. Cloth ripped, and sparks flew off as the blade grated against more of the scales beneath his vest, but it did find purchase near the base of his ribs.

Red started to slowly spread, but the human hardly felt it with his heart pounding. Tyren whirled back around, back handing the orc across the side of it’s head, a dull clang ringing off it’s helmet. The man dropped to a knee, ducking under the next swing of the ax, and drilled another punch into the side of the orc’s knee. This caused the large warrior to stagger, and Tyren stood up quickly, his next blow rising up under its chin. With his enemy off balance, he kicked at the back of its leg, and the orc tumbled over onto its back.

Paradox had to back up in order to see the young man and the other orc since it was too arduous to turn around. Carefully she did so as in the dim light it was difficult for her to see the wall and she also had no intention on stepping or pinning the young man she was with. He seemed to be doing alright, his tactics similar to that of an animal as he utilized both his fangs and claws to their full advantage. What he lacked in initial size and strength he more than made up for with his ferocity. He quickly dispatched the orc he had been dueling with and then turned his attention to the third and final one.

This orc would pose more of a challenge as unlike the others, he was heavily armored and armed with a heavy ax. She saw the young man rush in and deflect the blow of the ax with his forearm, only now did she realized that the black patches weren't diseased, but some sort of scales or armor that grew directly out of his skin. She watched him get hooked on the edge of the ax and the orc pulled him close. She saw the orc slash at his back with the ax, but surprisingly was not fatally wounded by the blow. There must have been scales or armor underneath his shirt that prevented him from suffering serious damage. However, she did see the edge of the blade come back red and started becoming concerned. This abated momentarily as the man continued to fight well and in a moment, the orc had fallen to the ground on it's back. 

The man paused it seemed as if waiting for her to finish the job. She glanced at him before striding over to the orc. She glared at the creature, heavily beaten by her companion. She kicked the ax away from him with a hoof and shifted her weight to her hindquarters. She planted her two front hooves deliberately onto the upper arms of the orc, effectively pinning him to the ground. She bent down with her human half to look him in the face, her ears pinned back. She grabbed him roughly by the collar lifting up his head slightly while still pinning him down with her legs. She looked at her accomplice and saw the blood starting to seep down his side. Concern welling in her again as she returned to the orc. 

"Tell us how to get out of here," she growled at him, speaking as calmly and as clearly as she could. "We do not belong here and you know it. Now tell us how to get out of here now before I feel the need to crush you to death." Slowly, she shifted her weight off her back end, feeling the muscle and bone begin to pinch in the creatures arms. If she put her full weight onto the limbs, they would surely break beneath her weight. Then he would be utterly defenseless and it would take her no time at all to kill him should the need arise. For now, she had a moment to see if he would indeed answer her question or failing to do so, would be handsomely splattered into the surrounding stone. It'd be as easy as squashing an egg. 

A retching cough caused the orc to spasm, and ineffectually attempt to right itself, even before the centaur stepped over and pinned it down. Tyren had half expected her to just make him another red stain on the stones, he’d seen what horses could do with their hooves. Her approach made a lot more sense though, and he leaned in with her, eager to hear the answers. “It doesn’t matter, where you ‘belong’.” That word was delivered with a twisted grimace that made any of the correctness it stood for seem peculiar and distasteful. Another cough shook him. Armor was heavy. Falling could hurt and make life difficult. “I have served them faithfully, and I will hunt you down in the next life. But you, they need more lives, more souls.” Tyren had decided he was not a fan of the direction the conversation was going. He had wandered off and stooped to retrieve the ax. He hefted t onto his shoulder, and motioned the centaur back as their captive was getting to the part where they would be damned to suffering for eternity, when he brought the ax down in a savage overhead swing. Red sprayed again, and he wiped it from his face the the back of his hand.

“I was really hoping for something a little more useful. On the bright side, if he’s right, he won’t have to be dead for long.” He held a free hand out to his companion. “We should still go.” He still held the ax in his other hand, the haft had slid down in his grip so he clutched it just beneath the head. He ducked down the fork the guards had appeared from. There was a larger room that housed a table and a handful of chairs. Three empty trays occupied places at the table, and a heavy wooden door was thoughtfully left open at the far end of the room. Whether in haste, or in thoughtlessness at the futility of escapes didn’t matter terribly much. Tyren was willing to take anything he was given at the moment. He did have the presence of mind to look before bursting through the doorway. The other side opened into a large cavern. The pathway was carved partway into the wall, but also just leveled the terrain to a degree. It was wide enough that two carts could roll down it side by side. The far end fell away into darkness. Rubble from the mining was strewn among the stalagmites that reached up, before they washed away into the river that ran silent at the bottom of the cavern, white foam marking that the current was swift and dangerous in its depths.

He was feeling that familiar coldness of the wound now, particularly aggravated by the activity and unclean conditions he found himself in. Scales grew near his spine and kidneys, so it was nothing that would kill him. While his transformation was blessedly slow, at least it was protecting areas that were more vital to his survival. His attention was focused more outwards. He’d expected the place to be crawling with orcs, but luck was still with them. “Up?” Seemed like a decent enough guess. Tyren kept closer to the wall, still wary of other patrols. More doorways dotted the hall up ahead, and he was hoping through one of them he could find some kind of supply room that held his gear. “Wonder if they’re still out raiding, and that’s why we’re not up to our necks right now…” That thought was unsettling, because he was forced to wonder how long before they were wading uphill through a bunch of angry orcs. "Tyren, by the way." Names were usually reserved for when the odds of survival were looking up, but they had made it this far.

Paradox pinned her ears down at the orc as he spoke. His word nor helpful, optimistic, or worthwhile to listen too. She was rather curious who 'they' were that needed more souls. It was difficult to determine if the orc meant his fellow higher up orcs or possibly deities of some sort. To her side, she saw the young man she was with pick up the ax off the ground and put it up on his shoulder. He didn't need to speak his intention and she moved back at his gesture. Likewise, he was probably not appreciative of what the orc had to say. He swung it down over his head, effectively decapitating the orc beneath her. She saw him wipe the blood off his face.

She looked down at him, her ears perking forward. She was surprised he extended a hand towards her, it was a gesture she wasn't used to. Hesitantly, she reached out and took it. They made their way down the second fork in the hallway where the orcs had come. Shortly, they came across a larger room. There were a few objects about, but she was able to move easier in the larger space. She stood upright for a moment, enjoying her increased range of movement. She watched the young man making his way to the door at the end of the room as she made her way around, looking at the table and chairs. There might've been something useful here, but she wasn't able to find it. She stood behind him as he opened the door.

This hallway was larger than the one they had just exited. Here it was wide enough she could move better and wouldn't have to struggle to turn around. She felt safer here, now that she was better able to protect herself. Using only her human half in a fight was strange and awkward. She felt the dull ache in her side from her spar with the first orc and was glad to see her knuckles had stopped bleeding. She probably had a nice bruise in the soft area under ribs, but she would deal with it when she got to the surface. She felt the bruise on her cheek and jaw and unconsciously ran her tongue across her teeth inside her mouth. There were no chipped teeth or open spaces, which was a good thing. The thought reminded her of the ax and how it caught her companion in the side. She turned to him as they walked up the pathway against the wall, careful to stay on the inside. She didn't want the walkway to fall away under her weight if there was a weak spot. She didn't wander to the edge to see what was down below, the sound of the water at the bottom told her it was a far way down.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. "I saw you take a hit back there." She listened to him as he spoke, keeping one eye on him and the other on the path. It was times like this where she almost wished she was part mule. Though both horses and mules couldn't see their own feet when they walked, the mules were much more surefooted and better at walking on narrow pathways. She cocked an ear at him and gave a small smile. "My name's Paradox. Apart from the unusual circumstances, it's very nice to meet you, Tyren." She looked up as the pathway continued upward. She hoped they'd be out soon, she was looking forward to seeing the sun again. 

As they made their way further up, she caught the sound of something ahead of them. She put a hand down in front of Tyren as she focused on the sound. It was an orc, but it sounded like he was alone. Quietly as she could, she walked up and peeked around the turn, ears pinned flat. She glanced at him a moment before rushing forward. She caught the orc by surprise, ramming herself into him and knocking him quickly to the ground. He grabbed her by a leg and she felt herself fall on top of him, landing heavily on him and the rocks. She heard a sickening crunch as her knees scraped against the stone and quickly staggered to her feet. The orc's face now resembled a squashed bug more than anything else. She felt bad as she looked at it, she hadn't intended to kill him.

After a moment she turned and walked back to where he was standing, slightly surprised there was a door there. It was an odd place for a room. She tested the lock, found it locked and too impatient to unpick it, spun on her fores and double-barreled the wood. The door snapped off and opened into a room. She turned back and looked inside. The room was filled with various supplies, so assorted and foreign, she could only assume they were from other prisoners like Tyren and herself.