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((we're skipping Syn. keep it goin.))
* cough *
The first spattering breath of air out from his mouth blew away a thin layer of dirt at his face. Awakening from the fall, he coughed more and more. He realized that the mask had come off his face. He caught his breath, sitting up. Looking up, Phili'p saw the path of his fall through the boards of scaffolding and marveled at his survival. He had traveled some levels down much quicker than he had intended to.
Pushing up to a stand, the Acolyte looked around to see an empty cavern. It was blocked off by a cave-in on one side and a lining of boards on the other, marked "do not enter". Well, unfortunately, that seemed the only way out of this abandoned section.
He didn't bother dusting himself off, never one to think about the state of his appearance and clothing. And as a result, each step puffed off a cloud of dirt from his absorbent clothing.
He approached the wall of old and worn boards, reached back, then kicked a single leg through the barrier with a yell. If someone were close enough and on his level, they'd have heard him for sure. However, he was still far too high up along the surface of the planet to be heard by the awaiting Acolyte near the core. The boards gave way and revealed a black darkness down another corridor, likely unfinished or otherwise unsafe. Phili'p tugged at his breath mask with an insecurity, now hanging around his neck. He winced, leaning in to the darkness, as he thought he heard something. It was probably his imagination, he reconsidered. And so, Phili'p began down this new path to find a way deeper into the tunnels and towards the core.
He had no idea that there were others here, tracking down the same target. He hoped he would not have to run into any more workers, but knew he would. The thought of what he'd already done to the ones he'd taken this mask from made him ill. The thought of what he'd have to do soon, should he face more of them, made him swallow down the feeling like holding back that impulse from only a little vomit in your mouth. ...The Darkside called. He'd tried to fight it. The Darkside won. He was forced to obey.
* cough *
The first spattering breath of air out from his mouth blew away a thin layer of dirt at his face. Awakening from the fall, he coughed more and more. He realized that the mask had come off his face. He caught his breath, sitting up. Looking up, Phili'p saw the path of his fall through the boards of scaffolding and marveled at his survival. He had traveled some levels down much quicker than he had intended to.
Pushing up to a stand, the Acolyte looked around to see an empty cavern. It was blocked off by a cave-in on one side and a lining of boards on the other, marked "do not enter". Well, unfortunately, that seemed the only way out of this abandoned section.
He didn't bother dusting himself off, never one to think about the state of his appearance and clothing. And as a result, each step puffed off a cloud of dirt from his absorbent clothing.
He approached the wall of old and worn boards, reached back, then kicked a single leg through the barrier with a yell. If someone were close enough and on his level, they'd have heard him for sure. However, he was still far too high up along the surface of the planet to be heard by the awaiting Acolyte near the core. The boards gave way and revealed a black darkness down another corridor, likely unfinished or otherwise unsafe. Phili'p tugged at his breath mask with an insecurity, now hanging around his neck. He winced, leaning in to the darkness, as he thought he heard something. It was probably his imagination, he reconsidered. And so, Phili'p began down this new path to find a way deeper into the tunnels and towards the core.
He had no idea that there were others here, tracking down the same target. He hoped he would not have to run into any more workers, but knew he would. The thought of what he'd already done to the ones he'd taken this mask from made him ill. The thought of what he'd have to do soon, should he face more of them, made him swallow down the feeling like holding back that impulse from only a little vomit in your mouth. ...The Darkside called. He'd tried to fight it. The Darkside won. He was forced to obey.