The world was dark. Not a regular dark, an almost evil dark. The kind of dark where you feal asthough a thousand eyes are inches away from you, but you couldnt see them even if they were.
Those barbarians, he thought, it was all their fault. It was strange, he was only on the war campaign for a matter of weeks, and already he was filled with such intense hatred for them. Savages. Cruel beasts.. having struck at him like dogs. He taken many down with him. He knew he could kill thousands, but it would only take one for them to win in the end. It all made no difference.
He tried to move, but found himself completely immobile. Only then did it pass his mind that he could be dead. He thought it strange. It was not a tramadic realization to him. He had thought of how faint the line between life and death was every day. Everyone died, so what made it so special?
Then he rememberred his family. He wish he had not had to have left them without warning. He wonderred if they knew what happened.
He found himself caught mid-thought when suddenly there was a bright flash, and he found himself engulfed in a great flame.....
((to be continued))
Hopeless?((closed rp))
Moderator: Gamemasters
The fire surrounded him, and he knew he had been sent to the lowest levels of Moshran's lair. He was blinded by the brightness of the flame, and the sudden jump from pitch blackness, to pure light. His fear prevented him from thinking clearly, until after only a short moment, he realized that there was truly nothing to fear.
The flames engulfed him, but he realized he did not burn. He realized almost immediatly after that he did not even feel any heat from the flame. Infact, he felt no different than before, though he almost wished he did. The numbness was unbearable. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, something in the distance caught his eye.
In the far distance, almost beyond the flame he could see an immaculately bright figure, beckonning him. He tried to move towards the figure, but found he was still immobile.
The figure drew nearer, reaching out its hand, and finally touching his own.
He found himself in pitch blackness again....
((tbc))
The flames engulfed him, but he realized he did not burn. He realized almost immediatly after that he did not even feel any heat from the flame. Infact, he felt no different than before, though he almost wished he did. The numbness was unbearable. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, something in the distance caught his eye.
In the far distance, almost beyond the flame he could see an immaculately bright figure, beckonning him. He tried to move towards the figure, but found he was still immobile.
The figure drew nearer, reaching out its hand, and finally touching his own.
He found himself in pitch blackness again....
((tbc))
After awhile, his eyes adjusted, and found he was in a dark room, though not the same dark as before. He looked around, and he realized he was in a dimly lit room, a mud hut with a roof of branches. There was a fire in the room that made the room almost unbearably warm, and made it smell strongly of smoke. Finally he saw the two women standing next to him.
He was confused to see them there. They wore clothes made of animal hides, just like that of the barbarians with whom he had battled. He waited for them to make their death blow, but realized that they healed nothing but a bucket of water, abit of cloth, various herbs, and a needle and thread.
He soon bacame more confused than before. These were barbarians. The same barbarians he had killed without thought. Yet, still they sat at his bedside, tending to his injuries.
He tried to clench his hands into a fist, and found that he could only move one hand. He looked to his right and left, and found a taunting emptiness, starting midway down his forearm. He stared at his arm a moment, seeming not to believe that he had been injurred as such.
He stared at his arm right until he lost conciousness, and found himself surrounded with darkness again.
He was confused to see them there. They wore clothes made of animal hides, just like that of the barbarians with whom he had battled. He waited for them to make their death blow, but realized that they healed nothing but a bucket of water, abit of cloth, various herbs, and a needle and thread.
He soon bacame more confused than before. These were barbarians. The same barbarians he had killed without thought. Yet, still they sat at his bedside, tending to his injuries.
He tried to clench his hands into a fist, and found that he could only move one hand. He looked to his right and left, and found a taunting emptiness, starting midway down his forearm. He stared at his arm a moment, seeming not to believe that he had been injurred as such.
He stared at his arm right until he lost conciousness, and found himself surrounded with darkness again.
He lay unconscious for hours, days for all he knew. He dreamt of the battle. Marching for days when they finally reached that fateful clearing in the forest. They had arrived a few days before the battle. They built defenses: walls of pointed branches facing outwards, catapults and ballista, all strategically placed. They soaked the ground in oil, and tied strips of cloth, also soaked in oil, around their arrows.
The battle began only days after they arrived there, first announced by the barking of dogs, soon by the ominous sound of horns in the distance. Shouting was heard from the woods, then a loud roar, the calling of tens of thousands of barbarians.
Every legionnaire held out their sword as their commander rode past on horseback, his blade striking each of their own. The captains gave the order for archers to prepare their bows, and light their arrows. The command was given to take aim, and the first barbarians could be seen breaking through the trees. The commander held out his blade, then lowered it, signaling the archers to fire.
The arrows flew across the field, small fireballs with a tail following behind. They hit the ground and it ignited. Many barbarians fell with this initial blast, but they were only drops in the bucket for what was to come. The flames died down quickly as they burned up the oil and the barbarians continued their mad rush foreword.
A phalanx was formed by the legionnaires upon the commander’s orders, and the barbarians continued their charge. The phalanx did not hold long with the momentum the barbarians had built up in their charge. They fought without care for their life, those in front just smashed themselves on the blades and shields. It soon turned into mass chaos. Every man was watching only his own back.
The legionnaires were outnumbered five to one, yet one stood out in the fight. He stood seven feet tall, and looked to be made of sheer muscle. He had left four times his number dead before he met his match. The barbarian broke through his shield with a massive battle-ax, cutting off his left hand and midway up his forearm. He fought through the pain, driving his blade through his adversary. He turned to try and continue his fight, yet it took only that one arrow through his stomach leave him on the ground.
The battle carried on around him. No one even seemed to see him fall. Several soldiers from either side found their final resting-place on top of him.
Suddenly, everything was silent. There was no more pain, and the sounds and sights of death were gone. He was still in the woods, but it was completely empty. He got up, his arm healed, and the arrow gone. It seemed as though the battle had never taken place.
He did not know why, but he started running. He ran faster than he had ever done before. He thought he could see the end of the forest when he hit a root slightly raised off the ground, and he fell. He did not feel anything when he fell, but he seemed to snap back into whatever reality he was in, still in that ever silent woods.
He saw something move far in the distance. He drew his blade, thinking it was the barbarians. He realized it was only a single figure, and lowered his blade slightly. The figure drew nearer, and he saw her face. The face he knew better than any other. The face of a woman whom he had shared vows with. He tried to call out to her, but found himself mute. She spoke softly at first, “Wake up.” He continued to try and call out to her, and she replied more sternly, delivering the same message. She yelled it the third time, and the entire battle flashed past his eyes again, to the point where he fell.
He then instantly woke up, sweating slightly. He looked around, finding he was still in the room. He looked first to his arm, and found it still stopped early, halfway down his forearm. He realized the room was empty, apart from him, and he moved to the door. He looked outside, and saw no one. He knew he had to get home, and he started to run.
The battle began only days after they arrived there, first announced by the barking of dogs, soon by the ominous sound of horns in the distance. Shouting was heard from the woods, then a loud roar, the calling of tens of thousands of barbarians.
Every legionnaire held out their sword as their commander rode past on horseback, his blade striking each of their own. The captains gave the order for archers to prepare their bows, and light their arrows. The command was given to take aim, and the first barbarians could be seen breaking through the trees. The commander held out his blade, then lowered it, signaling the archers to fire.
The arrows flew across the field, small fireballs with a tail following behind. They hit the ground and it ignited. Many barbarians fell with this initial blast, but they were only drops in the bucket for what was to come. The flames died down quickly as they burned up the oil and the barbarians continued their mad rush foreword.
A phalanx was formed by the legionnaires upon the commander’s orders, and the barbarians continued their charge. The phalanx did not hold long with the momentum the barbarians had built up in their charge. They fought without care for their life, those in front just smashed themselves on the blades and shields. It soon turned into mass chaos. Every man was watching only his own back.
The legionnaires were outnumbered five to one, yet one stood out in the fight. He stood seven feet tall, and looked to be made of sheer muscle. He had left four times his number dead before he met his match. The barbarian broke through his shield with a massive battle-ax, cutting off his left hand and midway up his forearm. He fought through the pain, driving his blade through his adversary. He turned to try and continue his fight, yet it took only that one arrow through his stomach leave him on the ground.
The battle carried on around him. No one even seemed to see him fall. Several soldiers from either side found their final resting-place on top of him.
Suddenly, everything was silent. There was no more pain, and the sounds and sights of death were gone. He was still in the woods, but it was completely empty. He got up, his arm healed, and the arrow gone. It seemed as though the battle had never taken place.
He did not know why, but he started running. He ran faster than he had ever done before. He thought he could see the end of the forest when he hit a root slightly raised off the ground, and he fell. He did not feel anything when he fell, but he seemed to snap back into whatever reality he was in, still in that ever silent woods.
He saw something move far in the distance. He drew his blade, thinking it was the barbarians. He realized it was only a single figure, and lowered his blade slightly. The figure drew nearer, and he saw her face. The face he knew better than any other. The face of a woman whom he had shared vows with. He tried to call out to her, but found himself mute. She spoke softly at first, “Wake up.” He continued to try and call out to her, and she replied more sternly, delivering the same message. She yelled it the third time, and the entire battle flashed past his eyes again, to the point where he fell.
He then instantly woke up, sweating slightly. He looked around, finding he was still in the room. He looked first to his arm, and found it still stopped early, halfway down his forearm. He realized the room was empty, apart from him, and he moved to the door. He looked outside, and saw no one. He knew he had to get home, and he started to run.
He continued running, though he did not know where he was going. He was nearly at his limit when he saw smoke in the distance. He started moving at a more rational pace, walking towards the smoke. Smoke meant people. People meant civilization. Civilization meant a way to get home. I was not too long before he found the town. It was nothing grand, but it was at the water’s edge, and he could see a dock. He moved warily toward the town, seeming not to care if they were friends or enemies.
He reached the edge of the town, and found it to be inhabited by none other than halflings. Dozens of them seemed to come out of the woodwork, all wide eyed as the watched the giant walk slowly through the town. He walked towards the dock, the crowd following close behind. He stood near the end of the dock when he finally turned around to view those watching him. They stood staring back at him speechlessly.
He spoke slowly at first, almost as though it was for his first time. He simply said he needed a ship, and he would pay when they reached their destination. One of them came forward that had the looks of a fisherman to him. He simply nodded, and before long he found himself on the ship, and on his way home.
((btw, the beginning of this would have started afew days ago, but i couldnt get to my cpu, so if this seems like its going quickly, just push everything back afew days))
He reached the edge of the town, and found it to be inhabited by none other than halflings. Dozens of them seemed to come out of the woodwork, all wide eyed as the watched the giant walk slowly through the town. He walked towards the dock, the crowd following close behind. He stood near the end of the dock when he finally turned around to view those watching him. They stood staring back at him speechlessly.
He spoke slowly at first, almost as though it was for his first time. He simply said he needed a ship, and he would pay when they reached their destination. One of them came forward that had the looks of a fisherman to him. He simply nodded, and before long he found himself on the ship, and on his way home.
((btw, the beginning of this would have started afew days ago, but i couldnt get to my cpu, so if this seems like its going quickly, just push everything back afew days))