The spiraling, subterranean descent into the deepest bowels of the earth was a pathway paved with absolute, suffocating despair. The air pressure dropped drastically with every hundred yards, replaced by a dense, cloying miasma of ancient, rotting marrow and the sharp, coppery tang of freshly spilled blood. The jagged, obsidian-carved walls of the catacombs seemed to absorb all light, save for the sickly, erratic flickering of green ghost-fire burning within massive, rusted iron braziers.
The demonic vanguard was in full, chaotic retreat.
