05-27-2015, 08:30 PM
Galel cursed the capricious whims of the Changer of Ways. Every vile word and utterance he knew was shouted to the heavens as blood leaked from what used to be his left leg. Pain unlike any he had felt since he had been stabbed by a power sword surged through his body, crippling his ability to move. No. He seethed. I will not be defeated so easily. He raged, his fist clenching and grasping his bloody stump. Fire He screamed within his mind, using his other arm to prop himself up. The blast had propelled him off the road and into the bush nearby, and had also thrown his bag several feet away from him. The Sorcerer cursed again. What have I done to displease my lord Tzeentch so? He pondered, turning himself over in order to begin crawling towards his bag. With great effort, he clawed forward, his mighty hands digging into the dirt and grass beneath him and dragging his body along. Soon enough, he was at his bag. Food... Water... Map... Compass... and THAT. He eyed the item, his mind desperately trying to decide whether to use it or not. His hand traced the item's outline, running along every edge. He shook his head, grabbing the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. His supplies still in his posession, he began to crawl into the bushes.
The trees were tall and broad, perfect for what he planned to do. He tore bark from near the base of one tree, then dragged himself to some fallen sticks. With a small amount of tinder gathered, he propped himself against a tree and began arranging the swigs and sticks. He cursed his fate once more, rubbing sticks together to produce a spark. This will wake too long. He thought to himself, and looked to his stump. Already, the bleeding had begun to clot, his Astartes biology helping him along as best it could. Even his advanced genetic ability would not be enough soon, for infection would take root if Galel did not burn it out now. Desperately, Galel rubbed the sticks together, the intense friction generated by the strength of an Astartes speeding the process considerably. With a little oxygen, and some intimidating words, Galel produced a small spark. From the spark, grew flames that began to consume the tinder and kindling that he had gathered. It would not be a large fire, but it would have to be big enough to do what he needed.
With a groan of pain, he lowered his partially clotted stump over the fire, gritting his teeth as the flames licked and caressed his flesh. It took longer than it should have, but soon enough the stump had been cauterized, and Galel moved it out of the flame. Lying back against the tree, he panted. How could I have been so foolish? How could I have allowed myself to be caught unawares? He thought, all three of his eyes drifting closed. Within moments, he had passed from consciousness.
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"Galel Baraz..." Whispered a thousand voices, each more menacing and less intimidating than the last.
Galel blinked, his eyes opening to a shifting and swirling pattern of colours beyond description. What is? He thought, looking down at himself. The red and gold colours of the Thousand Sons Legion adorned his armour, and in his arms was a bolter of ancient design. What is going on? He wondered.
"You're in my home, travelling through my halls." whispered the voices.
Galel frowned, turning to look around himself. Nothing was there, simply more shifting colours and patterns, which were honestly getting annoying. "Show yourself!" Galel shouted, pointing his bolter at the shifting colours.
"Well where's the fun in that?" the voices whispered. "You're unremarkable, that interests me."
Unremarkable? Galel thought, frowning.
"Yes! Unremarkable!" the voices said. "Unremarkable, ordinary, average... not special in any way. That makes you interesting."
How is he- Galel began to think.
"Answering you? I told you, you're in my home. I know everything in here." The voices laughed, their chittering shrieks scratching within Galel's mind, causing him to reel in pain. "You're so normal, so I need to fix that. I can't have you serving me like that."
"Serving you?" Galel asked, turning around again.
"Serving me." said a single voice, which came from an indescribable being that had suddenly appeared before him as he turned.
Galel scowled, leveling his bolter at the creature. "Why would I serve you?" He bellowed.
"Because I have your gun." It answered. Galel looked down to find himself holding nothing, then looked up at the being, who had just placed the end of the bolter against his helmet. The Legionairre froze. "How did you?" He began to ask. "I am the master and the servant, the lord and the slave, the victim and the perpetrator." It spoke.
"I am everything, and nothing. And you are my thrall."
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Galel jolted into consciousness. How long had he been out? Minutes, hours? The sun was still out, so it couldn't have been too long. Regardless, he tried to stand, falling forward as his left leg refused to move. "What now?" He cursed, looking down to see his missing leg. His third eye widened as he realized where he was. Damnit. He thought, looking around. His supplies were still there, and the fire he had made was burning down to coals. It hadn't been big to begin with anyway, he thought, looking around for something he could use. There. His third eye settled on a long, sturdy branch, one that should support his weight when used as a crutch. He dragged himself towards it. With difficulty, he staggered to his foot, using the branch as a crutch. His mind wandered to his allies. Had they fallen prey to the same trap he had? Were they dead? No, he refused those possibilities. He had only been caught because of carelessness, he rationalized, surely the others were unlikely to make the same mistake he had. Smoke. He decided, and began to hobble off to gather materials to build another fire.
Two hours passed, and he had gathered a sizeable pile of kindling and fuel. He sat himself down once more, and began to make a spark. As he rubbed sticks together, he glanced at his pile of supplies, emptied from their home in his bag. He had lamented it's loss, but he needed the fabric. The bag lay next to him, torn out of shape into a sheet of fabric. It would serve it's purpose, but it wasn't pretty. Again, he breathed upon the spark he had created, nurturing the infant flame and using it to light his bonfire. I hope they see this before someone else. He thought, as he began to use the 'bag' to cover the flame in short intervals.
Above the trees, clouds of smoke rose. One large cloud, followed by two short clouds, then a pause. One large cloud, followed by four short clouds, then a pause. It repeated; one large, two small, pause. One large, four small, pause. Repeat. It would keep repeating for several hours, as Galel's determination was unwavering.
The trees were tall and broad, perfect for what he planned to do. He tore bark from near the base of one tree, then dragged himself to some fallen sticks. With a small amount of tinder gathered, he propped himself against a tree and began arranging the swigs and sticks. He cursed his fate once more, rubbing sticks together to produce a spark. This will wake too long. He thought to himself, and looked to his stump. Already, the bleeding had begun to clot, his Astartes biology helping him along as best it could. Even his advanced genetic ability would not be enough soon, for infection would take root if Galel did not burn it out now. Desperately, Galel rubbed the sticks together, the intense friction generated by the strength of an Astartes speeding the process considerably. With a little oxygen, and some intimidating words, Galel produced a small spark. From the spark, grew flames that began to consume the tinder and kindling that he had gathered. It would not be a large fire, but it would have to be big enough to do what he needed.
With a groan of pain, he lowered his partially clotted stump over the fire, gritting his teeth as the flames licked and caressed his flesh. It took longer than it should have, but soon enough the stump had been cauterized, and Galel moved it out of the flame. Lying back against the tree, he panted. How could I have been so foolish? How could I have allowed myself to be caught unawares? He thought, all three of his eyes drifting closed. Within moments, he had passed from consciousness.
------------------------------------------------------
"Galel Baraz..." Whispered a thousand voices, each more menacing and less intimidating than the last.
Galel blinked, his eyes opening to a shifting and swirling pattern of colours beyond description. What is? He thought, looking down at himself. The red and gold colours of the Thousand Sons Legion adorned his armour, and in his arms was a bolter of ancient design. What is going on? He wondered.
"You're in my home, travelling through my halls." whispered the voices.
Galel frowned, turning to look around himself. Nothing was there, simply more shifting colours and patterns, which were honestly getting annoying. "Show yourself!" Galel shouted, pointing his bolter at the shifting colours.
"Well where's the fun in that?" the voices whispered. "You're unremarkable, that interests me."
Unremarkable? Galel thought, frowning.
"Yes! Unremarkable!" the voices said. "Unremarkable, ordinary, average... not special in any way. That makes you interesting."
How is he- Galel began to think.
"Answering you? I told you, you're in my home. I know everything in here." The voices laughed, their chittering shrieks scratching within Galel's mind, causing him to reel in pain. "You're so normal, so I need to fix that. I can't have you serving me like that."
"Serving you?" Galel asked, turning around again.
"Serving me." said a single voice, which came from an indescribable being that had suddenly appeared before him as he turned.
Galel scowled, leveling his bolter at the creature. "Why would I serve you?" He bellowed.
"Because I have your gun." It answered. Galel looked down to find himself holding nothing, then looked up at the being, who had just placed the end of the bolter against his helmet. The Legionairre froze. "How did you?" He began to ask. "I am the master and the servant, the lord and the slave, the victim and the perpetrator." It spoke.
"I am everything, and nothing. And you are my thrall."
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Galel jolted into consciousness. How long had he been out? Minutes, hours? The sun was still out, so it couldn't have been too long. Regardless, he tried to stand, falling forward as his left leg refused to move. "What now?" He cursed, looking down to see his missing leg. His third eye widened as he realized where he was. Damnit. He thought, looking around. His supplies were still there, and the fire he had made was burning down to coals. It hadn't been big to begin with anyway, he thought, looking around for something he could use. There. His third eye settled on a long, sturdy branch, one that should support his weight when used as a crutch. He dragged himself towards it. With difficulty, he staggered to his foot, using the branch as a crutch. His mind wandered to his allies. Had they fallen prey to the same trap he had? Were they dead? No, he refused those possibilities. He had only been caught because of carelessness, he rationalized, surely the others were unlikely to make the same mistake he had. Smoke. He decided, and began to hobble off to gather materials to build another fire.
Two hours passed, and he had gathered a sizeable pile of kindling and fuel. He sat himself down once more, and began to make a spark. As he rubbed sticks together, he glanced at his pile of supplies, emptied from their home in his bag. He had lamented it's loss, but he needed the fabric. The bag lay next to him, torn out of shape into a sheet of fabric. It would serve it's purpose, but it wasn't pretty. Again, he breathed upon the spark he had created, nurturing the infant flame and using it to light his bonfire. I hope they see this before someone else. He thought, as he began to use the 'bag' to cover the flame in short intervals.
Above the trees, clouds of smoke rose. One large cloud, followed by two short clouds, then a pause. One large cloud, followed by four short clouds, then a pause. It repeated; one large, two small, pause. One large, four small, pause. Repeat. It would keep repeating for several hours, as Galel's determination was unwavering.