Nov 6, 2016 12:32 am
From the cursed soil you arise, mist is strewn about you. You cannot remember; who you are, how did you fall, all this is lost to you. But in the distance there is a soft orange glow. Hope?
You approach the light, almost mindlessly driven to hold your hand over the coiled blade. The bonfire lights, for a fleeting moment warmth fills your cold heart, restoring your vigour and your strength. You feel rested, as though you had stayed for ten or so minuets in this moment, though it lasted only a moment. Filled with determination you look once more around you. You stand in a deep vale; filled with mist and graves. Across the clearing from you is a corpse its decayed hands clasp a dull great flask a bright white stone untouched by age. You recognise these items, powerful items indeed...
The sides of the cake are steep but there is an old path winding through the mist..
You approach the light, almost mindlessly driven to hold your hand over the coiled blade. The bonfire lights, for a fleeting moment warmth fills your cold heart, restoring your vigour and your strength. You feel rested, as though you had stayed for ten or so minuets in this moment, though it lasted only a moment. Filled with determination you look once more around you. You stand in a deep vale; filled with mist and graves. Across the clearing from you is a corpse its decayed hands clasp a dull great flask a bright white stone untouched by age. You recognise these items, powerful items indeed...
The sides of the cake are steep but there is an old path winding through the mist..
