89th of Fall, 514 AV
Late Evening
Aoren sat down upon the bed with a heavy sigh. Toeing the heel of his boot he kicked it off then removed the other nudging both off to the side with a foot. Gingerly he reached down grasping the hem of his shirt pulling it up over his head. He had been quite active that day and his muscles were a tad sore. It was a good kind of ache but nearly an entire season at sea and being consumed by studies for a season prior he had lost some of his athleticism. He was going to change that now that he wasn’t so buried in his studies or living under the law of rations. Bringing up his legs he removed his pants folding them neatly. He set both his shirt and pants on the floor near the foot of the bed then slipped under the blanket. Isikai padded up to the edge of the bed curling up on the floor with a yawn. Aoren pat him on the head gently with a small smile.
The season was coming to a close. The air was tinged with Morwen’s chill and it wouldn’t be long before she brought Winter to the world. Leaning over to the end table he cupped the flame burning brightly atop the wick of the candle. With a final glance around the room he blew it out plunging the room into darkness. Laying back Aoren took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. There in the dark those thoughts and memories that he often fought the hardest to ignore often whispered to him. His brow furrowed but he closed his eyes anyways beginning the nightly ritual that he so often partook in.
“100, 99, 98, 97, 96…”
After a while Aoren’s thoughts settled and he managed to drift into sleep suspecting what awaited him there but hopeful that this night he would be left in peace.
It was a vain hope.
Running. Aoren was running as fast as his legs could carry him. He could feel the burn of exhaustion clawing its way up his shins and drilling itself into his thighs. His breath was coming in great heaves. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Desperate. He was desperate to get away but no matter how far he ran the beast was right behind him. He could hear the ominous flapping of leathery wings. Behind him the screams of dying men berated his ears. He wanted to help them. It was his duty to help them but there was nothing he could do to save them from their fate.
No one could save them from that fate.
He jumped over the gnarled roots of a twisted tree landing hard upon the dirt that lay beyond it. So hard in fact that he stumbled on his recovery delaying his escape. The beating of the wings drew nearer. He had to run faster. He had to find some place to hide, to escape the beast that hunted him.
“HELP! GODS PLEASE HELP ME!” Aoren flinched jerking back as the plea for aid came to him. He stood there in the dark of a forest with no name wrestling with himself. From between the trees Aoren could see a man stumble and fall. Aoren’s internal struggle ended as he took a step toward the man. It was a step too late as a vicious roar ripped through the sky. The man was suddenly struck in the chest by a viscous material. He screamed trying desperately to brush it off of his body only serving to exacerbate his own demise. With a sickening sizzle and pop his flesh began to bubble. In mere moments Aoren watched in horror as skin melted to reveal the red of blood and muscle. The grotesque scene intensified as another globule of the fluid splattered against him causing firm muscle to drip and pool with the growing puddle of melted bone and flesh at the man’s feet. He screamed in agony as his slow, terrible death consumed him.
And Aoren couldn’t move.
He was frozen in terror. Afraid that if he moved this death would fall upon him. Afraid that if he didn’t move the same would come to him that much sooner. His decision was made for him as the air was filled with a screeching roar and the next stream of acidic fluid splashed upon the trees above him. Aoren bolted skidding in the dirt even as the screams of the dying man became gurgled and choked. He HAD to escape. He NEEDED to find shelter, to get away from the doom that awaited him. He was mid-stride when something wet splashed against his lower right leg. A tortured scream tore itself from Aoren’s chest as the acid burned through his lower leg. He stumbled falling face first in the dirt the only sound in his ears being his own anguished cry of pain. Every nerve in his leg begged for the misery to end.
Aoren managed to flip himself over as he desperately tried to crawl away leaving behind the melting half of his lower leg. The remaining stump oozed droplets of flesh, muscle and bone as remnants of the acid continue to eat away at him. Above him the beat of wings ushered his death knell. His gaze turned skyward.
“Gods help me…”
Aoren writhed in his bed. He had broken out into a cold sweat. He gripped the sheets of his bed, the muscles of his body standing out in stark contrast as he fought with the wraiths that haunted his dreams. Isikai stood in the darkness of the room whimpering as he watched his human companion fight with the nightmare that had consumed him. The dog emitted a high pitched bark followed by another to no avail. Whatever dream Aoren was trapped in it had complete hold of him. The memories Aoren had been suppressing up until that point had clawed their way back to the surface. The memories of the beast, the creature that had nearly been the death of him and several others.
Late Evening
Aoren sat down upon the bed with a heavy sigh. Toeing the heel of his boot he kicked it off then removed the other nudging both off to the side with a foot. Gingerly he reached down grasping the hem of his shirt pulling it up over his head. He had been quite active that day and his muscles were a tad sore. It was a good kind of ache but nearly an entire season at sea and being consumed by studies for a season prior he had lost some of his athleticism. He was going to change that now that he wasn’t so buried in his studies or living under the law of rations. Bringing up his legs he removed his pants folding them neatly. He set both his shirt and pants on the floor near the foot of the bed then slipped under the blanket. Isikai padded up to the edge of the bed curling up on the floor with a yawn. Aoren pat him on the head gently with a small smile.
The season was coming to a close. The air was tinged with Morwen’s chill and it wouldn’t be long before she brought Winter to the world. Leaning over to the end table he cupped the flame burning brightly atop the wick of the candle. With a final glance around the room he blew it out plunging the room into darkness. Laying back Aoren took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. There in the dark those thoughts and memories that he often fought the hardest to ignore often whispered to him. His brow furrowed but he closed his eyes anyways beginning the nightly ritual that he so often partook in.
“100, 99, 98, 97, 96…”
After a while Aoren’s thoughts settled and he managed to drift into sleep suspecting what awaited him there but hopeful that this night he would be left in peace.
It was a vain hope.
------------------------------
Running. Aoren was running as fast as his legs could carry him. He could feel the burn of exhaustion clawing its way up his shins and drilling itself into his thighs. His breath was coming in great heaves. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Desperate. He was desperate to get away but no matter how far he ran the beast was right behind him. He could hear the ominous flapping of leathery wings. Behind him the screams of dying men berated his ears. He wanted to help them. It was his duty to help them but there was nothing he could do to save them from their fate.
No one could save them from that fate.
He jumped over the gnarled roots of a twisted tree landing hard upon the dirt that lay beyond it. So hard in fact that he stumbled on his recovery delaying his escape. The beating of the wings drew nearer. He had to run faster. He had to find some place to hide, to escape the beast that hunted him.
“HELP! GODS PLEASE HELP ME!” Aoren flinched jerking back as the plea for aid came to him. He stood there in the dark of a forest with no name wrestling with himself. From between the trees Aoren could see a man stumble and fall. Aoren’s internal struggle ended as he took a step toward the man. It was a step too late as a vicious roar ripped through the sky. The man was suddenly struck in the chest by a viscous material. He screamed trying desperately to brush it off of his body only serving to exacerbate his own demise. With a sickening sizzle and pop his flesh began to bubble. In mere moments Aoren watched in horror as skin melted to reveal the red of blood and muscle. The grotesque scene intensified as another globule of the fluid splattered against him causing firm muscle to drip and pool with the growing puddle of melted bone and flesh at the man’s feet. He screamed in agony as his slow, terrible death consumed him.
And Aoren couldn’t move.
He was frozen in terror. Afraid that if he moved this death would fall upon him. Afraid that if he didn’t move the same would come to him that much sooner. His decision was made for him as the air was filled with a screeching roar and the next stream of acidic fluid splashed upon the trees above him. Aoren bolted skidding in the dirt even as the screams of the dying man became gurgled and choked. He HAD to escape. He NEEDED to find shelter, to get away from the doom that awaited him. He was mid-stride when something wet splashed against his lower right leg. A tortured scream tore itself from Aoren’s chest as the acid burned through his lower leg. He stumbled falling face first in the dirt the only sound in his ears being his own anguished cry of pain. Every nerve in his leg begged for the misery to end.
Aoren managed to flip himself over as he desperately tried to crawl away leaving behind the melting half of his lower leg. The remaining stump oozed droplets of flesh, muscle and bone as remnants of the acid continue to eat away at him. Above him the beat of wings ushered his death knell. His gaze turned skyward.
“Gods help me…”
---------------------------
Aoren writhed in his bed. He had broken out into a cold sweat. He gripped the sheets of his bed, the muscles of his body standing out in stark contrast as he fought with the wraiths that haunted his dreams. Isikai stood in the darkness of the room whimpering as he watched his human companion fight with the nightmare that had consumed him. The dog emitted a high pitched bark followed by another to no avail. Whatever dream Aoren was trapped in it had complete hold of him. The memories Aoren had been suppressing up until that point had clawed their way back to the surface. The memories of the beast, the creature that had nearly been the death of him and several others.