Spring 4th, 514 A.V. Aravorn stumbled out onto the road, a mist of confusion clouded his mind as he studied his surroundings, everything was blurry and seemed farther than it actually was. Aravorn felt content to look up at the sun and as he looked up and sting burned his eyes. The sun hurt and blinded him he was distressed by this and didn't understand why, his mind swirled on the question Why? he applied it to everything he could think of, from why he was here, to why he was disoriented, he kept his head low as he started to take a few steps, he felt cold, very cold and unfamiliar with his own body he was fumbling around like a toddler it didn't help that pain coursed through his body from some unknown origin, it was a pain that tore through his own soul and made him clutch his fists, a feeling was returning even though he couldn't remember why it was there in the first place. Rage, pure, and simple, he looked towards the direction he was stumbling towards, a lake: one he felt drawn to, he searched his mind briefly before muttering a single word "Ravok..." his memory started to return as he chanted the word Ravok over and over again with spite, he could only remember to the point of his imprisonment and that was enough to grasp onto some form of identity he had, it was faint but at least he had two things now, a goal and a name, He was Aravorn, and he would do something. Something? that wasn't right, something was not explicit enough, but all his focus was on Ravok, and the more he thought of it the more his anger grew, he wanted to see Ravok on fire, its people cowering from the destruction. His goal had come to him, spontaneously and almost caused a bit of disorientation to himself, he was lost not in direction but with himself his head was dizzy and a strong ache irritated his chest, looking down he found he was clad in black robes but it didn't seem strange to him.. No, it seemed right, and it was perhaps the one thing that made sense to him though he wasn't quite sure why. He had begun to tear at his robes but they wouldn't rip and at times he thought his own hand slipped inside the fabric, Aravorn stretched out the collar of his robes to look down them, it was quite dark but by turning towards the sun which was low in the sky he had enough light to see a gaping wound, panic gripped him as he fell backwards into the ground, he placed a hand over the wound and gasped, it was deep and straight into his heart, 'I should be dead' he thought to himself but maybe he was just overreacting.. maybe it wasn't that deep, he just perceived it to be since he didn't get a good look at it, slowly he stood up and looked down his robes a second time, he felt sick looking at it but there was no doubt about it, the wound was straight through his chest probably wen't right through to his back too. He started to well up, he was scared and didn't understand what was happening. He closed his eyes and everything seemed to fade away, it was a bit like meditation as he turned his head and opened his eyes to look down at his arms, he placed his right hand on his bicep and slowly stroked his arm down to the wrist where he gripped and held his hand there for a while, while trying fanatically to keep calm but there was a anger inside him, and he felt like he needed to let it out, he looked over at a tree and rushed at it, tripping on himself once or twice before swinging three punches straight at it, all of them hit and pain started in his hands and wen't all the way up his arms to his neck, he gritted his teeth and stared at the tree, he started to hate it, but perhaps that was his own fault.. He was punching solid wood afterall, he turned around, sighed and started to walk away... And then something happened that was impossible: He passed through a branch, through one, it had to be his imagination right? It had to be, but panic and curiosity overwhelmed him and he wanted confirmation, though this time he wanted his hand to go through it and not touch it, he slowly extended his hand and pushed it straight into the branch, it didn't move or react to his touch his hand simply wen't into it, disappearing with his finger tips becoming visible on the other side, he started to breath harshly and quickly, he pulled his hand out of the branch quickly and he notice himself flicker, he panicked and started to run out onto the road looking down it and begging for someone to come down and explain everything to him, but it started to make sense, reason in his mind told him to sit down and think, so he did and his thoughts were cold and twisted, fueled by a malicious rage, a heightened sense of reality gripped him and he started to clench his jaw shut, grinding his teeth together he was remembering everything relevant to him though not the first time there was one final thing that he had never known prior to this, his collected memory followed the hole, his oath, and.. His death, being stuck with a blade and only staying awake for a few seconds before a eternal slumber took him, or it should have been eternal, but his oath and his desire prevented him from doing so, 'Never to rest,' he thought, and he opened his eyes "There is work to do.." |