07-30-2011, 04:39 PM
Death's always unexpected, isn't it? It comes and goes in the blink of an eye, snatching the soul of whoever is in its path. Whether one anticipates it or is completely unaware, it never comes when you think it will. Always earlier or later.
One man died earlier than he wished to. His third death. The first for a woman he loved. The second for revenge against the man who ordered his death. And the third... well... for a group of strangers he barely knew, and a few close friends. Not that he regretted dying for such a thing, no. He just didn't exactly want to die then. There was still so much to discover.
As what seemed to be an eternity passed his soul reflected over everything that had transpired. His flashbacks did not come prior to death, they came after it. And how revealing they were.
He saw his most recent death as clear as daylight. Five armor clad women, runes flaring across their protection. The death was swift. Why? They exploded, taking the man with them. At least he took out a majority of them, someone else could have fallen. A bit of solace could be taken in knowing his death only protected others.
His second death in life? Death by a crusader. An ally. Did he hate the elf who did it? No, he couldn't. He would have died anyway. One does not survive being trapped under a pile of ravenous ghouls very long. And he couldn't have died for a better cause.
Well. Save one.
As his first death in life came into focus did he see with unclouded clarity. He saw what truly transpired, no longer blinded by bias towards the living or scorn for what he had become. The forsaken man had long since come to terms with what he was, and what transpired on that fateful day.
And it was that moment of truth that gave him his new objective.
He would feel the Light tearing his very soul apart in an attempt to rip him from the afterlife. His consciousness cried out in pain. His thoughts told him to fight back. But his emotions... it was the metaphorical heart pounding in his soul that drove back everything that would stop him.
He screamed as he returned to Azeroth, the pain unimaginable, foreign to the man for so long. Oh how easy it would have been to end it all there, to deny his undeserved place on that planet. But it was as he laid in bed in some forsaken tower in the middle of nowhere that he came to realization that he couldn't. Sure, he wanted to. But there was something he had to do before he could allow himself the peace of a final death.
As he rose after days of rest he donned his blades once more. Fastened his cloak. Adjusted his hood. And made his way out the front door of that familiar structure.
He had a destination.
And it was Stratholme.
------------------------------------------
Temporary Effects
- Minor pain assails his body at every movement he makes.
- The Light is doubly harmful to him, even if it is with intention to heal.
- The man can't even stand the sun for now.
Permanent Effects
- Burn marks from the resurrection scours his being. A look beneath his armor would reveal lines where his limbs were reattached.
- Healing by holy means will cause the man greater pain, though no physical harm.
- Feeling has been restored to Versich's body. He can feel the heat, the cold, the maggots crawling in his flesh. While it is a faded feeling, like barely being away of your sense of touch, it is there.
One man died earlier than he wished to. His third death. The first for a woman he loved. The second for revenge against the man who ordered his death. And the third... well... for a group of strangers he barely knew, and a few close friends. Not that he regretted dying for such a thing, no. He just didn't exactly want to die then. There was still so much to discover.
As what seemed to be an eternity passed his soul reflected over everything that had transpired. His flashbacks did not come prior to death, they came after it. And how revealing they were.
He saw his most recent death as clear as daylight. Five armor clad women, runes flaring across their protection. The death was swift. Why? They exploded, taking the man with them. At least he took out a majority of them, someone else could have fallen. A bit of solace could be taken in knowing his death only protected others.
His second death in life? Death by a crusader. An ally. Did he hate the elf who did it? No, he couldn't. He would have died anyway. One does not survive being trapped under a pile of ravenous ghouls very long. And he couldn't have died for a better cause.
Well. Save one.
As his first death in life came into focus did he see with unclouded clarity. He saw what truly transpired, no longer blinded by bias towards the living or scorn for what he had become. The forsaken man had long since come to terms with what he was, and what transpired on that fateful day.
And it was that moment of truth that gave him his new objective.
He would feel the Light tearing his very soul apart in an attempt to rip him from the afterlife. His consciousness cried out in pain. His thoughts told him to fight back. But his emotions... it was the metaphorical heart pounding in his soul that drove back everything that would stop him.
He screamed as he returned to Azeroth, the pain unimaginable, foreign to the man for so long. Oh how easy it would have been to end it all there, to deny his undeserved place on that planet. But it was as he laid in bed in some forsaken tower in the middle of nowhere that he came to realization that he couldn't. Sure, he wanted to. But there was something he had to do before he could allow himself the peace of a final death.
As he rose after days of rest he donned his blades once more. Fastened his cloak. Adjusted his hood. And made his way out the front door of that familiar structure.
He had a destination.
And it was Stratholme.
------------------------------------------
Temporary Effects
- Minor pain assails his body at every movement he makes.
- The Light is doubly harmful to him, even if it is with intention to heal.
- The man can't even stand the sun for now.
Permanent Effects
- Burn marks from the resurrection scours his being. A look beneath his armor would reveal lines where his limbs were reattached.
- Healing by holy means will cause the man greater pain, though no physical harm.
- Feeling has been restored to Versich's body. He can feel the heat, the cold, the maggots crawling in his flesh. While it is a faded feeling, like barely being away of your sense of touch, it is there.