10-27-2014, 07:01 PM
At his slow, crawling pace, he plodded along, dragging his great blade behind him. The distance he had to cover was not insignificant, and at his pace it would take him some time to cover it....unless his pace grew even slower as he went. At first his movements were slow and sluggish from his pain and confusion, but at least relatively steady. All too soon his movements grew jerky, erratic, and he staggered roughly, dragging his sword up to plant its blade in the ground, leaning on it for support.
His breath came out low, rasping against his the grille of his helmet. For a moment his mind went blank and he lost track of his goal, trying instead to force his confused thoughts together into something resembling a cohesive whole. Stubbornly, his mind refused to obey his commands, resisting all of his brute force and demands to allow him to think calmly about his situation.
Unconsciously, his head jerked at an imagined sound, and a sharp knife jabbed at his injured arm. He let out a muted howl of pain, fingers slipping from the sword, whipping about to clutch at the pain in his opposite arm. He sank down pitifully in a pile on the ground, breathing more ragged than ever before. The pain renewed the confusion in his thoughts, pushing a red film over his efforts to regain his control.
And suddenly he remembered his goal: get away. He slowly hefted his free hand, his fingers shaking, and grasped the hilt of the blade beside him. And with an effort of will as much as of body, he hauled himself upright, and resumed his forward trek.
And though it took him a long while, he finally reached his destination: an arch of stone, set in the midst of the whiteness with seemingly no purpose. And though he barely registered that it was even there, he slowly trudged his way forward, through the archway.
And when he hit the portal within the archway, the sudden shifting of location and the twisting of his mind and senses it brought with it sent him pitching the ground below, into confusion and darkness.
His breath came out low, rasping against his the grille of his helmet. For a moment his mind went blank and he lost track of his goal, trying instead to force his confused thoughts together into something resembling a cohesive whole. Stubbornly, his mind refused to obey his commands, resisting all of his brute force and demands to allow him to think calmly about his situation.
Unconsciously, his head jerked at an imagined sound, and a sharp knife jabbed at his injured arm. He let out a muted howl of pain, fingers slipping from the sword, whipping about to clutch at the pain in his opposite arm. He sank down pitifully in a pile on the ground, breathing more ragged than ever before. The pain renewed the confusion in his thoughts, pushing a red film over his efforts to regain his control.
And suddenly he remembered his goal: get away. He slowly hefted his free hand, his fingers shaking, and grasped the hilt of the blade beside him. And with an effort of will as much as of body, he hauled himself upright, and resumed his forward trek.
And though it took him a long while, he finally reached his destination: an arch of stone, set in the midst of the whiteness with seemingly no purpose. And though he barely registered that it was even there, he slowly trudged his way forward, through the archway.
And when he hit the portal within the archway, the sudden shifting of location and the twisting of his mind and senses it brought with it sent him pitching the ground below, into confusion and darkness.
![[Image: kUpgBYg.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/kUpgBYg.gif)