Trial of the Void: Orion Cayge

Man if this wasn’t just proving his fucking point real succinctly.

Orion’s initial shock of losing his senses, and his way like this was mixed with a searing spike of rage. Oooh wah, my name was Seta and I took offense to someone who already has his convictions set on surmounting your trial so I don’t want to quibble about what sort of lesson you're going to teach me this time. I already know I’m not coming back the same person, nor will my homie I’m saving because we’re going to get stronger from overcoming this challenge.

Boo fucking hoo.

His anger was lucky, honestly, because his sheer annoyance was searing away the absolute panic that would have boiled to the surface. The desert and the mist had both been ordeals yeah, but they were tangible ordeals to smash his skull against. Orion excelled if the problem was something he could pyrically flounder through, he was more than willing to expend his own suffering for the sake of others.

But maybe that was the lesson Seta was trying to pass on here.

This was one of those times he had to really think about this, use his noggin for more than cracking boards and sportin sick ass bandannas. That was all fine and dandy except he was basically in a sensory deprivation tank. In fact, he was fairly certain that this sort of thing was hella breaking any and all sorts of laws but he didn’t bother to fucking quibble the song and the dance so he really can’t fucking complain about that now could he?

Would hardly be sporting.

Plus if he stomped his feet and pissed and moaned it would probably only make that prissy ghost more smug. Oooooh, I thought you didn’t need any guidance, I thought this would be easy for someone like you? Gritting his teeth, Orion let out a soft growl.

“Fucker.”

It was slow and grueling work, but Orion managed to fumble about for what felt like ages but could have been anywhere from five to fifty minutes in the absolute oblivion that was his current prison. It appeared he was in some sort of square room, roughly ten paces by ten paces. The wall he’d encountered seemed solid and smooth to the touch, he imagined it to be some sort of fancy marble, but for all he knew it was just one of those weird placeholder textures with the weird checkerboarded crosshatching.

Perks of making the player blind for such a challenge.

On one end of the room was some sort of hallway, wide enough for him to walk it with both hands out on either wall with his arms fully outstretched and tall enough that he couldn’t reach the ceiling even rising up onto his tippy toes. He hadn’t gone down it yet for fear of missing something in this room. What if there was some sort of secret key he needed for a door later down the road? Best to ensure he’d explored every nook and cranny of this place before moving onwards.

FOMO and all that.

The room was fifty tiles by fifty tiles, which left him two thousand and five hundred tiles to scour for any sorts of discernable secrets. Starting at what he would call the top left of the room, he went tile by tile on his hands and knees, letting his fingers dance over the smooth tile looking for any sort of rune or secret that had otherwise eluded him. It was slow grueling work, his arms and legs sore from holding his body up, but once he was done and satisfied that Seta hadn’t written Updog on the floor, he went to work checking over every inch of the wall of his current room in case of any lurking Ligmas.

Satisfied, Orion would turn to the hallway, take a deep breath, and start down it. All the while wondering where Achilles could be.

After a certain point Orion had decided that he wasn't going to continue on his hands and knees.  If Seta or Hydance wanted him to prostrate himself before them in order to get Achilles back they could get fucking bent.  He would reach into the ones and zeroes and tear the world asunder with his bare hands if he had to, but he wasn't going to fucking beg. 

He was above that.

In fact, the longer he spent in the darkness the more indignant he got about the whole thing.  Fucking Seta, Fucking Void, FUCKING MYSTRA.  He gnashed his teeth, a feral growl leaving his lips that went unheard to him, but the vibrations of his seething rage rattled in the back of his throat, just enough sensation to prove he was alive, and if he was alive the fight wasn't over.

So he faced the unknown before him, sweeping his left leg in front of him like a blind mans cane, his arms were both outspread and planted on each wall, palms sliding frictionless on the mysterious surface.  Slow and steady was the name of the game, the last thing he needed to do was get spun around and lose the mental map he had already forged.  He would overcome this, he would adapt to the darkness, and soon it would be his greatest ally and strongest weapon.  A manic grin spread across his face as he quickened his pace, this was starting to get eas-

His foot that hand been tap tap tapping away wall to wall failed to find wall on either side of him.

Motherfucker.