Diversion To Urasha

Machty, a Nebowskan Warrior slowly awoke, feeling the searing hot ground beneath him smouldering his face. As he lifted his head to study his surroundings, The Nebowskan Warrior was horrified by what he could see. The sky was dark, black almost. The ground was red, covered by boulders and pools of lava. Machty felt sick, remembering the moment he had been knocked out, taken from his home and taken here, to this hellish place.

Machty got up, fighting his way back onto his feet, fighting his way through this hellish landscape. Even the air here, it tasted stale, and acidic, as it burned away in his mouth.

For a while, Machty navigated his weak body across this landscape, passing boulder after boulder. Until eventually, a horrifying sound halted his movements. Something was here, he was not alone. The Nebowskan quickened his pace, desperately trying to flee from whatever it was that was following him. Machty knew that he could run all he liked, but there was nowhere to hide.

“EEEEEEECCCCCCCHHHHHHH!”

Machty recoiled in pain as the horrific screech sounded, deafening him. He fell back onto the red-hot ground, agonised by the screeching. Then he felt it. He felt yet more pain. His entire body was burning up. He could see the searing flames all around him. He could see bodies; thin, demonic bodies all around him, clawing away at his body, dragging him further and further into the heat.

With one final cry for his life, Machty screamed, and then he was gone, completely and utterly lost within the hellish flames.