05-10-2016, 10:46 PM
The Sage awoke on a beach, and gasped in pain. He clutched his left arm, as pain seared throughout the limb. He rolled painfully onto his side, as water washed past him. He glanced up please tell me I didn't wash up back on the island… looking towards shore he found one of the stranger sights he had encountered. The lower part of the island was normal enough, although the lamp in the lighthouse seemed brighter than any he had previously encountered,
but this was dwarfed by the part of the island that protruded upwards.
It was the strangest castle that the Sage had ever seen. The towers arched off in strange manner, many seemed to defy gravity. The Sage sighed, there was no other explanation. This must be a wizard’s tower.
Life continues to be entirely too busy for me to actually handle it… with a painful grunt he propped himself up on one knee and struggled to his feet. He needed help, the feeling in his arm was going numb, and spots danced in and out of his vision. He began to shamble towards the lower buildings, peasants would be more sympathetic to his plight than a tyrannical wizard.
He staggered along as best as he could, stopping to rest whenever he started to black out. He just needed to make it to the village. There were lights there, there would be help. He continued along with labored breathing. He had no idea how long he took to make it to the nearest house, but when he reached the wall he collapsed against it for a good minute before trying to move on. His arm was still bleeding, and he vaguely considered trying to tie it off.
He slid his way along the wall to the door of the hut. The street was quiet, but not unusually so for this time of night. He wondered why they all kept their lights on, since no sound was audible over the rocking of the waves. He reached the door, and raised his good arm to knock. There was no answer. He pounded on the door, again without reaction. In desperation he gave a hoarse shout and threw his weight against the door. It swung inwards and he fell into the one-room hut.
It was empty. He looked around at the pristine living-space, completely untouched, with the lightest layer of dust to show how long it had been derelict. The light seemed to be coming from the ceiling, some strange lantern hung there, its light steady. No people. No help. The other huts seemed equally quiet and he could not muster the energy to search them all. No one seemed to have heard the ruckus he made entering this house at least.
Perhaps the wizard preferred solitude. He was on his own. With a grunt he staggered across the room to the bed, drops of blood splattering the lacquered wood. He collapsed into the bed, and the temptation to go under nearly claimed him. With a growl of pure denial, he forced himself to focus. He sat up and grabbed the sheet with his good arm. Tearing a strip from the sheet he tied off his injured limb with his good arm and his teeth. Nearly passing out from the pain he let himself fall back into the bed. He had no energy remaining, and as far as he was aware he was alone on the island, without any food or water. At least he wouldn’t bleed out now.
but this was dwarfed by the part of the island that protruded upwards.
It was the strangest castle that the Sage had ever seen. The towers arched off in strange manner, many seemed to defy gravity. The Sage sighed, there was no other explanation. This must be a wizard’s tower.
Life continues to be entirely too busy for me to actually handle it… with a painful grunt he propped himself up on one knee and struggled to his feet. He needed help, the feeling in his arm was going numb, and spots danced in and out of his vision. He began to shamble towards the lower buildings, peasants would be more sympathetic to his plight than a tyrannical wizard.
He staggered along as best as he could, stopping to rest whenever he started to black out. He just needed to make it to the village. There were lights there, there would be help. He continued along with labored breathing. He had no idea how long he took to make it to the nearest house, but when he reached the wall he collapsed against it for a good minute before trying to move on. His arm was still bleeding, and he vaguely considered trying to tie it off.
He slid his way along the wall to the door of the hut. The street was quiet, but not unusually so for this time of night. He wondered why they all kept their lights on, since no sound was audible over the rocking of the waves. He reached the door, and raised his good arm to knock. There was no answer. He pounded on the door, again without reaction. In desperation he gave a hoarse shout and threw his weight against the door. It swung inwards and he fell into the one-room hut.
It was empty. He looked around at the pristine living-space, completely untouched, with the lightest layer of dust to show how long it had been derelict. The light seemed to be coming from the ceiling, some strange lantern hung there, its light steady. No people. No help. The other huts seemed equally quiet and he could not muster the energy to search them all. No one seemed to have heard the ruckus he made entering this house at least.
Perhaps the wizard preferred solitude. He was on his own. With a grunt he staggered across the room to the bed, drops of blood splattering the lacquered wood. He collapsed into the bed, and the temptation to go under nearly claimed him. With a growl of pure denial, he forced himself to focus. He sat up and grabbed the sheet with his good arm. Tearing a strip from the sheet he tied off his injured limb with his good arm and his teeth. Nearly passing out from the pain he let himself fall back into the bed. He had no energy remaining, and as far as he was aware he was alone on the island, without any food or water. At least he wouldn’t bleed out now.
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.