Panic anyway and fight the guards

Eleanor’s wrists burned beneath the rough iron shackles, her breathing ragged as the cart jostled over uneven ground. The wooden planks beneath her were splintered, the stink of animals mingling with the lingering dampness of the **** pits. The chickens clucked nervously, their beady eyes darting at her every frantic movement.

But Eleanor couldn’t care less about the animals. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief. The sting of the slap still lingered on her face, a dull, throbbing reminder that this was real. Too real.

“No,” she gasped, her voice cracking. “No, this isn’t real.”

She clawed at her restraints, her raw wrists aching as the metal bit into her flesh. Tears welled in her eyes.

“This is some kind of sick joke! Some… some twisted experiment!” Her voice grew louder, trembling with hysteria. “You’re not real. You’re actors. You’re goddamn LARPers!”

The guard riding beside the cart didn’t so much as flinch. His gaze remained fixed forward, unmoved by her thrashing.

“You’re insane!” Eleanor spat, struggling against her bonds. “You’ve kidnapped me! Or—or you’re aliens! Mind control! That’s what this is, right?” She laughed, the sound sharp and broken. “Some government experiment? Virtual reality? You’re just pretending!”

But nothing changed. The guard didn’t blink. The wheels of the cart groaned as it trundled along, the distant spires of the capital looming ahead.

“This isn’t real!” She screamed. “None of it is real!”

Eleanor lunged forward, her bound arms wrenching as she kicked against the side of the cart. The chickens scattered in a flurry of feathers. “You’re not people! You’re monsters! You killed them! You killed all those people!”

Her words struck a nerve. The guard’s head snapped toward her, his expression a stone mask of disinterest — but the flicker of something darker flashed in his eyes.

“Enough.”

“I won’t stop! You hear me? I won’t stop!” Eleanor’s voice cracked as she struggled. “You’re not going to get away with this! People are going to find me! They’ll see what you’ve done! You’re—”

The guard moved fast.

A gloved hand seized her by the hair, wrenching her head back until her neck strained painfully.

“I said enough.”

But Eleanor only gasped through gritted teeth, the defiance still blazing in her eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me?”

The guard’s smirk was a slow, wicked thing.

“Yeah. Probably.”

And then it happened.

A savage blow struck her across the face. The **** of it knocked her sideways, her head slamming against the side of the cart. Stars exploded in her vision. Another blow followed, this one to her ribs. Her body curled in instinctive defense, but there was no escape.

Fists. Boots. The rough scrape of the wooden planks beneath her. Every strike sent pain rippling through her body. Eleanor tasted blood. The metallic tang filled her mouth as she coughed, gasping for air.

“Stupid bitch,” the guard growled. “Why are you making me have to mess your ass up like this huh?”

Another kick. More pain.

But it was fading. The world around her grew distant. Dark.

Her limbs were leaden. The last thing she saw was the sky — vast, pale, and cloudless.

And then nothing.

Game Over.

You have died.

__________________________________________________________________________

OOC:

Well… wasn’t that a spectacle?

Congratulations, Eleanor. You didn’t just get yourself killed—oh no, that would’ve been too simple. No, in your brilliant act of defiance, you managed to get two people killed.

You see, in Vaelthorn, slaves aren’t just bodies to be tossed aside.

They’re property. And property?

Costs money.

The guard who beat you to ****? Poor bastard. He didn’t just kill you — he destroyed the queen’s purchase. A two silver purchase, to be exact. And guess what happens when a guard takes it upon himself to damage royal property without compensating the cost?

Execution.

That’s right. He didn’t have the money to pay for his mistake. And in Vaelthorn? No silver, no mercy.

So while you floated in the void, pondering your life choices, that guard? He was dragged into the courtyard, shackled like a dog, and had his throat slit before the queen’s court. Quick. Efficient. Brutal. But hey…

That’s not really your problem anymore, is it?

Oh wait… it is.

Because actions?

They have consequences.

You fought. You screamed. You accused them of being LARPers, aliens, and mind-controlled robots… and while it might’ve been entertaining for a while, you forgot one very important rule.

In Vaelthorn, survival isn’t about strength.

It’s about knowing when to speak… and when to shut the hell up.

And you, dear Eleanor? You didn’t learn that lesson.

But don’t worry.

You’ll get another chance.

“Wise as a snake, humble as a lamb…”

Ring a bell yet?

Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before opening that pretty little mouth.