Cebrious Arcane-hybrid
Wanderer
A Tale of Murder: 4
Tearing flesh is a unique feeling. To receive I mean, it’s completely different from delivering. To feel the cold steel grow warmer as your own blood bathes it--founts of your essence spilling onto the ground. Never have I felt such agony, such exquisite pain. Axe lay to my side drowning in my crimson life, death delivered by the Guards of Order. They laugh, as I lay dying, laugh at my wasted life, and wasted flesh. They laugh at another bit of scum being wiped from the boot of Britannia… Oh, how they laugh.
With no blood to fuel them, the headaches have ebbed, nothing more than a pin prick on the scalp, or perhaps only when compared to the torrents of pain coursing from my chest.
At last I will be released. Released from the curse of these headaches, released from the torture of life, released and free…
Blood fills eyes and the sun shines brightly through my rose tinted glasses. The guards laugh at their accomplishment, the birds squawk in mocking agreement, the dogs size up their next meal, and the clouds drift idly, peacefully, pacified. I don’t feel cold, like I would have expected… I feel wet, and warm. I feel as though my life has slipped away long ago, and my body is struggling to win the race.
Blood fills ears and all is silent. I accept my fate, and I welcome the darkness.
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Am I dead? What is going on?! Where am I falling? Where is the darkness, and what is this glow I am plunging towards? Why am I not free?!
“W…where am I?” Well at least I can talk, wherever I am. The walls are black rock with red stones jutting from sharp corners. This place smells of old eggs, and sour milk, and the air is thick… thick with hatred, and greed, lust… and murder. Two ways out of the wretched place, up, well, that’s out of the question… or down that cavern.
At least my legs work. Sort of…left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, it’s like learning to walk but already knowing how, this is truly unique. There is a sense of peace here, calm; perhaps I truly am free, trapped in this black and red mountain. Cavern it is!
It’s hard to get a sense of direction here, not sure if I’m heading up or down, left or right, but I am being compelled forward—as if there is some strange dark force, guiding me, pushing me… luring me. No axe, no armor…no clothing for that matter, how odd. It sounds like distant breathing. Distant breathing of heavy lungs circulating foul air and foul breath.
How can I see with no torchlight, no lanterns, or braziers? It is like there is a glow from the rock itself, or is it the air that is glowing? The cavern ends in a lightless room, a room free of the glowing rock or glowing air, or both. A room filled only with dark, heavy, breathing. Well, I’m already dead, so…what do I have to lose?
Stepping into the room it feels as though the whole room were an abyssal lightning bolt. No light, or heat, but sizzling electricity coursing through every fiber of my being. I could feel the hairs stand up, even the few on my toes, all on edge, scared, no fight left in this body, only preparation for flight.
“Your service is still required, Arcane,” the voice melted through me like foul acid through a dove’s feathers. A voice guttural and deep, as if a lion were slaughtering a calf, bringing with it despair, anguish, agony--a voice that rang like the headaches, a voice that can only be satisfied by murder.
What did it just say? I can’t speak, I can’t breath… I’m falling…
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Not again… Now, where am I? The stone under me is smoothed and polished… I’m… I’m at the Shine of Chaos?! But that means…I’m not dead? But I died… I went to that place… I must be dead! The sky is cloudy now, and the birds have ceased their squawking. Perhaps I truly am dead… No, I’m bleeding, it's a small scratch to replace the hole in my chest. I am alive...
“Well now what...?”
“Murder, murder, murder…”
The headaches always answer.
Tearing flesh is a unique feeling. To receive I mean, it’s completely different from delivering. To feel the cold steel grow warmer as your own blood bathes it--founts of your essence spilling onto the ground. Never have I felt such agony, such exquisite pain. Axe lay to my side drowning in my crimson life, death delivered by the Guards of Order. They laugh, as I lay dying, laugh at my wasted life, and wasted flesh. They laugh at another bit of scum being wiped from the boot of Britannia… Oh, how they laugh.
With no blood to fuel them, the headaches have ebbed, nothing more than a pin prick on the scalp, or perhaps only when compared to the torrents of pain coursing from my chest.
At last I will be released. Released from the curse of these headaches, released from the torture of life, released and free…
Blood fills eyes and the sun shines brightly through my rose tinted glasses. The guards laugh at their accomplishment, the birds squawk in mocking agreement, the dogs size up their next meal, and the clouds drift idly, peacefully, pacified. I don’t feel cold, like I would have expected… I feel wet, and warm. I feel as though my life has slipped away long ago, and my body is struggling to win the race.
Blood fills ears and all is silent. I accept my fate, and I welcome the darkness.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Am I dead? What is going on?! Where am I falling? Where is the darkness, and what is this glow I am plunging towards? Why am I not free?!
“W…where am I?” Well at least I can talk, wherever I am. The walls are black rock with red stones jutting from sharp corners. This place smells of old eggs, and sour milk, and the air is thick… thick with hatred, and greed, lust… and murder. Two ways out of the wretched place, up, well, that’s out of the question… or down that cavern.
At least my legs work. Sort of…left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, it’s like learning to walk but already knowing how, this is truly unique. There is a sense of peace here, calm; perhaps I truly am free, trapped in this black and red mountain. Cavern it is!
It’s hard to get a sense of direction here, not sure if I’m heading up or down, left or right, but I am being compelled forward—as if there is some strange dark force, guiding me, pushing me… luring me. No axe, no armor…no clothing for that matter, how odd. It sounds like distant breathing. Distant breathing of heavy lungs circulating foul air and foul breath.
How can I see with no torchlight, no lanterns, or braziers? It is like there is a glow from the rock itself, or is it the air that is glowing? The cavern ends in a lightless room, a room free of the glowing rock or glowing air, or both. A room filled only with dark, heavy, breathing. Well, I’m already dead, so…what do I have to lose?
Stepping into the room it feels as though the whole room were an abyssal lightning bolt. No light, or heat, but sizzling electricity coursing through every fiber of my being. I could feel the hairs stand up, even the few on my toes, all on edge, scared, no fight left in this body, only preparation for flight.
“Your service is still required, Arcane,” the voice melted through me like foul acid through a dove’s feathers. A voice guttural and deep, as if a lion were slaughtering a calf, bringing with it despair, anguish, agony--a voice that rang like the headaches, a voice that can only be satisfied by murder.
What did it just say? I can’t speak, I can’t breath… I’m falling…
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Not again… Now, where am I? The stone under me is smoothed and polished… I’m… I’m at the Shine of Chaos?! But that means…I’m not dead? But I died… I went to that place… I must be dead! The sky is cloudy now, and the birds have ceased their squawking. Perhaps I truly am dead… No, I’m bleeding, it's a small scratch to replace the hole in my chest. I am alive...
“Well now what...?”
“Murder, murder, murder…”
The headaches always answer.