04-20-2012, 07:05 PM
“I won't fight a woman.”
A simple statement with long-lasting consequences. In another time and place his principles would have probably been mocked and then ignored. In another time and place, foulmouthed Voragh Backbreaker and his fighting tournaments had been a source of amusement, a diversion from the burdens Lance Ardanos could at times shift on his shoulders but never quite lay down.
Here...this was different. Tables turned, shoes on opposing feet. The game was deadly this time, and there was no way to win. Fight in the arena match and best your opponent, and be spared punishment... probably. Fight and lose, and who knows what they would do. The one named Sivak had already been tortured for absolutely no reason at all. What would they do to someone who rebelled?
He shuddered at the thought.
It would be easy to give in. Who would blame him for trying to save his own neck by simply going along with this travesty?
But no – the game was lost before it even began. He would not sacrifice his convictions for comfort's sake. Lance stood his ground and pronounced his own sentence:
“I forfeit.”
The last thing he remembered clearly was a sudden feeling of shock at the enraged expression on Voragh's face as the Orc reared back to heave him over the ledge onto the stone floor far below. Torture he'd expected, would accept, if it meant sparing another. But this – not this. Voragh was really going to do it.
How often had he admonished others never to underestimate him as an opponent? And yet here, somehow, he had done just that...
Fool, he sighed to himself as the ground came up to meet him and the world went black.
~~~
He lived for an hour or so afterward, clinging fiercely to consciousness as the chaos of the prison scene milled around him.
Soon there would be healing. No one was supposed to die here. They would heal him and he could breathe again.
But they set him inside the prison cage and left, forgetting his injuries, and he knew it was over.
In the end his own pride did him in. With the last of his strength he dragged himself out of sight rather than beg for the aid of those around him, each of whom was suffering in his or her own way.
As his breathing slowed and his vision began to dim, he had the sensation of being enveloped in a comforting warmth, despite the coldness of the cell.
A vision swam before his eyes -- was it friend or foe? He hardly cared anymore.
With a relieved sigh, he gave up the struggle and passed beyond the veil.
~~~
"The sun weeps upon this sight."
It was a sad sigh indeed, the body of Lancelet dumped upon the ground a ways off the path. He didn't look like his last moments were fun in the slightest, not to the women who stood above him. It was by pure chance that she had even noticed the body on her normal patrol of the area. If not for the rising sun causing something to glitter in the distance, she never would have even bothered to come out this far. The glitter turned out to be some of the items the elf had with him stretched across the ground. Her steed pawed at the ground near her while she went about collecting his items.
"The sun has lead me here for a reason, that reason being that it was not your time to pass on yet. You must to be to fight again for our people, for the sun that guides us."
Once his items were all in the correct pack, away from her things, the elf in gold and crimson armor lifted up the dead one and tied him down on the back of her steed. She would mount up right after, riding off back the way she had come from. Paths were avoided when they could be in order to dodge any questions other soldiers might have had. When the sun was but an hour away from hitting noon, the trio came upon a badly build cabin a stones throw away from Hearthglen.
The elf unpacked his items and set them next to the poor excuse of a bed made of old straw and a rug. She was sure to lay the body in a way so that when he woke up he would not feel uncomfortable. She changed out of her armor and wore a light robe, knowing the task ahead of her would leave her weak for a few days. She stood just a food away from his head and began her ritual.
"Sun, lend me the power of your Light in order to bring this soul back to this world, for his deeds are not yet finished and you will find use of him for your greater goals."
Her tone would change from a prayer to that of song. The cherished Lament of the Highborn flowing from her lips as light gathered around her hands and flowed over his body, healing what might have endangered him upon his awakening. When the last of the lyrics flowed out of her lips, she would once more devote herself in fierce prayer, channeling holy energies about his body.
"Return to the embrace of the sun, warrior of blood, and take up your blade once more for the good of us all. You are needed still to fight off the shadows that threaten to consume us all!"
The ritual had started when the sun marked high noon and now the sun was starting to sink below the horizon. When at last her prayer ended, the light would force itself into the body of Lancelet.
"Rise again, for it is not your time!"
Only when Lancelet draw his first breath of new life did Lieonai allow herself to fall back upon the ground. She remained there in order to guard the weakened elf should any danger come to him. When the light of the sun started to peek though the trees once more, she packed up and left before the elf could fully awaken. A note was left for him, speaking of his proximity to Hearthglen and to wait until guards came to pick up him should he awaken outside the city.
~~~
The guards came and bore the Elf to the infirmary. Though the patient in question was scarcely known to them, a small fuss was made regardless; he bore the Argent tabard, and that was enough.
He took his time coming to consciousness, though the infirmary staff attempted to coax him to do so in any way they could.
“It's almost,” a nurse murmured, looking down at the inert form thoughtfully, “as if he does not wish to return.”
“How are his vitals?” inquired another.
“A bit weak, but stable.” The nurse frowned. “If he does not awaken soon to eat, he risks further damage to himself. A liquid diet is insufficient, especially for the convalescing.”
“Give it more time.”
“I know. I just...” her eyes rested on the man again.
“Did you see what he was safekeeping?” The second nurse lifted the item from the bedside table and passed it gently to her companion. “He'll bounce back, you mark my words. When he remembers what he's living for.” She left then, pressing a reassuring hand to her friend's shoulder as she went.
The first nurse traced the contours of the item gently, a wistful smile gracing her features. She placed it into Lancelet's palm and folded the hand into a fist.
~~~
He awoke at last as the sun was beginning to set, looked wearily around, and shut his eyes on the sight.
...Knew it was too good to be true.
He could feel unconsciousness reaching for him again. A brief shudder ran through him. With any luck it would keep him for good this time.
...And his hand twitched faintly around the object it held. His eyes snapped open. Weakly he opened a trembling palm and stared at what rested there.
When the hand at last clenched shut, his eyes burned once more with the desire to live.
Killer: Voragh Backbreaker
Resurrecter: Lieonai [Played by Reigen]
Resurrection Date: April 19 (IC it should have happened about a week after he died, which was around the 8th of April, but life got in the way of my writing.)
Short/Long-Term Drawbacks:
Weakness and limited mobility while bones fully mend and atrophied muscles return to full use.
Inability to wear heavy armor while regaining physical health.
Tires very easily while his lungs heal. This, along with the inability to wear his armor and wield his weapons, will be a source of frustration for Lance who worked hard to become physically fit.
Long-term depression, which may or may not eventually resolve.
Permanent Drawbacks:
He will have the usual aches and pains that mended bones cause during changes in barometric pressure.
Increased vulnerability to the cold and to shadow magic due to the time he spent in the spirit realm, which was not especially a fun place to visit.
Even after he returns to good health, he will find he tires more easily than he used to.
Lingering PTSD symptoms (nightmares, spells of anxiety, exaggerated startle response, etc.)
(Ugh... this is completely not what I had in mind. I may fill in the holes at a later date, but right now I just am frustrated enough with the whole thing to just let it go. I love Reigen's part though. Special thanks for helping me with this. I really appreciate it.)
A simple statement with long-lasting consequences. In another time and place his principles would have probably been mocked and then ignored. In another time and place, foulmouthed Voragh Backbreaker and his fighting tournaments had been a source of amusement, a diversion from the burdens Lance Ardanos could at times shift on his shoulders but never quite lay down.
Here...this was different. Tables turned, shoes on opposing feet. The game was deadly this time, and there was no way to win. Fight in the arena match and best your opponent, and be spared punishment... probably. Fight and lose, and who knows what they would do. The one named Sivak had already been tortured for absolutely no reason at all. What would they do to someone who rebelled?
He shuddered at the thought.
It would be easy to give in. Who would blame him for trying to save his own neck by simply going along with this travesty?
But no – the game was lost before it even began. He would not sacrifice his convictions for comfort's sake. Lance stood his ground and pronounced his own sentence:
“I forfeit.”
The last thing he remembered clearly was a sudden feeling of shock at the enraged expression on Voragh's face as the Orc reared back to heave him over the ledge onto the stone floor far below. Torture he'd expected, would accept, if it meant sparing another. But this – not this. Voragh was really going to do it.
How often had he admonished others never to underestimate him as an opponent? And yet here, somehow, he had done just that...
Fool, he sighed to himself as the ground came up to meet him and the world went black.
~~~
He lived for an hour or so afterward, clinging fiercely to consciousness as the chaos of the prison scene milled around him.
Soon there would be healing. No one was supposed to die here. They would heal him and he could breathe again.
But they set him inside the prison cage and left, forgetting his injuries, and he knew it was over.
In the end his own pride did him in. With the last of his strength he dragged himself out of sight rather than beg for the aid of those around him, each of whom was suffering in his or her own way.
As his breathing slowed and his vision began to dim, he had the sensation of being enveloped in a comforting warmth, despite the coldness of the cell.
A vision swam before his eyes -- was it friend or foe? He hardly cared anymore.
With a relieved sigh, he gave up the struggle and passed beyond the veil.
~~~
"The sun weeps upon this sight."
It was a sad sigh indeed, the body of Lancelet dumped upon the ground a ways off the path. He didn't look like his last moments were fun in the slightest, not to the women who stood above him. It was by pure chance that she had even noticed the body on her normal patrol of the area. If not for the rising sun causing something to glitter in the distance, she never would have even bothered to come out this far. The glitter turned out to be some of the items the elf had with him stretched across the ground. Her steed pawed at the ground near her while she went about collecting his items.
"The sun has lead me here for a reason, that reason being that it was not your time to pass on yet. You must to be to fight again for our people, for the sun that guides us."
Once his items were all in the correct pack, away from her things, the elf in gold and crimson armor lifted up the dead one and tied him down on the back of her steed. She would mount up right after, riding off back the way she had come from. Paths were avoided when they could be in order to dodge any questions other soldiers might have had. When the sun was but an hour away from hitting noon, the trio came upon a badly build cabin a stones throw away from Hearthglen.
The elf unpacked his items and set them next to the poor excuse of a bed made of old straw and a rug. She was sure to lay the body in a way so that when he woke up he would not feel uncomfortable. She changed out of her armor and wore a light robe, knowing the task ahead of her would leave her weak for a few days. She stood just a food away from his head and began her ritual.
"Sun, lend me the power of your Light in order to bring this soul back to this world, for his deeds are not yet finished and you will find use of him for your greater goals."
Her tone would change from a prayer to that of song. The cherished Lament of the Highborn flowing from her lips as light gathered around her hands and flowed over his body, healing what might have endangered him upon his awakening. When the last of the lyrics flowed out of her lips, she would once more devote herself in fierce prayer, channeling holy energies about his body.
"Return to the embrace of the sun, warrior of blood, and take up your blade once more for the good of us all. You are needed still to fight off the shadows that threaten to consume us all!"
The ritual had started when the sun marked high noon and now the sun was starting to sink below the horizon. When at last her prayer ended, the light would force itself into the body of Lancelet.
"Rise again, for it is not your time!"
Only when Lancelet draw his first breath of new life did Lieonai allow herself to fall back upon the ground. She remained there in order to guard the weakened elf should any danger come to him. When the light of the sun started to peek though the trees once more, she packed up and left before the elf could fully awaken. A note was left for him, speaking of his proximity to Hearthglen and to wait until guards came to pick up him should he awaken outside the city.
~~~
The guards came and bore the Elf to the infirmary. Though the patient in question was scarcely known to them, a small fuss was made regardless; he bore the Argent tabard, and that was enough.
He took his time coming to consciousness, though the infirmary staff attempted to coax him to do so in any way they could.
“It's almost,” a nurse murmured, looking down at the inert form thoughtfully, “as if he does not wish to return.”
“How are his vitals?” inquired another.
“A bit weak, but stable.” The nurse frowned. “If he does not awaken soon to eat, he risks further damage to himself. A liquid diet is insufficient, especially for the convalescing.”
“Give it more time.”
“I know. I just...” her eyes rested on the man again.
“Did you see what he was safekeeping?” The second nurse lifted the item from the bedside table and passed it gently to her companion. “He'll bounce back, you mark my words. When he remembers what he's living for.” She left then, pressing a reassuring hand to her friend's shoulder as she went.
The first nurse traced the contours of the item gently, a wistful smile gracing her features. She placed it into Lancelet's palm and folded the hand into a fist.
~~~
He awoke at last as the sun was beginning to set, looked wearily around, and shut his eyes on the sight.
...Knew it was too good to be true.
He could feel unconsciousness reaching for him again. A brief shudder ran through him. With any luck it would keep him for good this time.
...And his hand twitched faintly around the object it held. His eyes snapped open. Weakly he opened a trembling palm and stared at what rested there.
When the hand at last clenched shut, his eyes burned once more with the desire to live.
Killer: Voragh Backbreaker
Resurrecter: Lieonai [Played by Reigen]
Resurrection Date: April 19 (IC it should have happened about a week after he died, which was around the 8th of April, but life got in the way of my writing.)
Short/Long-Term Drawbacks:
Weakness and limited mobility while bones fully mend and atrophied muscles return to full use.
Inability to wear heavy armor while regaining physical health.
Tires very easily while his lungs heal. This, along with the inability to wear his armor and wield his weapons, will be a source of frustration for Lance who worked hard to become physically fit.
Long-term depression, which may or may not eventually resolve.
Permanent Drawbacks:
He will have the usual aches and pains that mended bones cause during changes in barometric pressure.
Increased vulnerability to the cold and to shadow magic due to the time he spent in the spirit realm, which was not especially a fun place to visit.
Even after he returns to good health, he will find he tires more easily than he used to.
Lingering PTSD symptoms (nightmares, spells of anxiety, exaggerated startle response, etc.)
(Ugh... this is completely not what I had in mind. I may fill in the holes at a later date, but right now I just am frustrated enough with the whole thing to just let it go. I love Reigen's part though. Special thanks for helping me with this. I really appreciate it.)