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Old 09-06-2007, 06:06 PM   #1
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Shadows of Darkness

((Note: Corinthian is the real thread master for this RP. However, due to the style and nature of the game, he won't be taking on a character. Rather, he will guide us from the shadows and play whatever NPCs come across our path. This is a co-post between him and myself.))

He fought to open her eyes, cringing with the pain from all over his body, especially in his head, like someone had slammed him over the head with a club and then proceeded to scrape the inside of his head with a dull knife. That, along with the whistling noise in his ears about made him deaf. The pain made a little more sense as he picked himself up. Blood was splashed on the bone-like rocks, especially where he head had lain. Touching the back of his head, it came away sticky and matted. There was also blood running from a gash on his left leg. He looked around the cave. Five others lay among the dust, four of them stirring slowly.

A soft groan left his gritted teeth as he came to. It seemed that each part of his body - every finger and toe - was protesting his very existence, aching and burning with pain. Gritting his teeth, he fought away the darkness that was threatening to drag him down again, knowing that something had happened - and he wanted to know what. Slowly, and ever so gingerly, he opened his eyes.

At first, he thought that he had gone blind. He felt his eyes open - he felt the lashes brush against his skin as he blinked again - but he still couldn't see anything. Several seconds - perhaps minutes, hours, days. He couldn't tell, he had no perception of time at this point - passed, and a slow panic began to build in his chest. However, before long, his eyes began to adjust. Perhaps he hadn't gone blind - it was simply too dark to see.

As his eyes adjusted, he noticed an eerie green glow of no definite source, seeming to pulse malevolently from the walls. His eyes slowly became accustomed to it. The cave seemed to be filled with ancient skeletons, their bodies contorted into unnatural positions in death. A few were stranger than others, with strange bones coming from the lower spine, neck, or back of the head. Besides that, the cave was empty except for a strange edifice, like a massive, twisted human skull with a far too large forehead and a jaw that was narrow and shrunken compared to the rest, with a flat, polished bone table in front of it, covered in dust. Two torches flanked it.

Slowly - ever so slowly - he tried to move each section of his body in turn. First his fingers, then hands, arms, and shoulders. Then his toes, feet, legs, and hips. Finally, he gently shifted his upper body from side to side - his spine was sore, but otherwise fine.

Rolling onto his front, he gingerly got to his feet, hesitant at first to put any weight on either his legs. His muscles didn't seem to be entirely there for one reason or another. He found, however, that they could hold him. And after standing, he slowly turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, trying to get a better account of just where he was. He pulled a face when he saw the mutated skeletons, his mind whirring. Where was he?

As he glanced around, he became more and more convinced something was extremely wrong with this situation, but he couldn't place it. An overwhelming sense of deja vu filled him, but he couldn't remember where he had seen this before. He then put his finger on what was wrong - he couldn't remember anything.

Nothing - nothing at all. Where he was, who he was, what his eyes looked like, what color hair he had...hell, he couldn't even remember his own name. There were a few lingering senses - like ghosts that wafted at the back of his mind, more like feelings than actual memories - but beyond that...everything was blank. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what had happened before he had woken up. To him, there was no past, not even a childhood. A malicious feeling made him feel that if he didn't find any of that at soon...he wouldn't have a future either.

A thump roused him from his reverie. One of the other five was shaking. His eyes had snapped open and were staring at the cavern ceiling, spittle streaming from his lips.

Quickly turning towards the sudden ruckus, he began to dash over. However, a bone gave way beneath his foot, and he ended up skidding the last few feet to the man's side, gritting his teeth as a bone gashed his leg. The man looked to be having a seizure - or so he thought. Grabbing a bone that had been kicked up by his sudden arrival, he placed it between the man's chattering jaw, holding down his tongue. Once in place, there really was nothing that he could do but wait for the seizure to ride out.

The man shook madly for several seconds, then stilled. The man's eyes caught his and he spat out the bone. "Get the others and run. You're in command now." He then went still and shook one last time, then let out a final breath.

His eyes widened - the man was dead.

In command? What the hell had he meant? Who were the others? Obviously they were the others in the cave, but...who were they? What could he expect from them? Would they remember what had happened? Would they know what to do?

And last of all...where the hell was he supposed to run?

The dead man, unlike him, still had a few things on his belt. A small pouch, and a long-bladed dagger thrust through a slot.

The sight of the glinting metal caught his eye, and a strange feeling of nostalgia washed over him. One of the emotion-like feelings in the back of his mind seemed to stir and wash over him at the sight - and he found, as he reached out his hand to grasp the hilt, that it felt comfortable in his hand. Apparently, he knew how to handle a blade.

Pulling the dagger out of it's make-shift sheath, he held it up to the faint, green light, admiring the way it glinted off its sharp edge. Finding a similar slot in his own belt, he store it away before reaching gingerly for the pouch, having no idea what could be inside it.

The pouch clinked as he lifted it off the belt. Opening it, he found a small number of silver and copper coins, the silvers marked with a crown on both sides, the coppers stamped with 'Kopek'. The language you can understand, but you do not know it's name.

It was currency of some sort, apparently. He settled back on his knees, curiously running a finger over the inscriptions. He knew the language, obviously, he could read it...but who or what was 'Kopek'?

He growled softly, shoving the money back in the pouch and violently drawing the string closed, standing up again. So many new questions, and no answers. His questions were simple - who was he, where was he, and why was he here? But nothing and no one seemed to want to answer them for him. In frustration, he kicked a loose bone and sent it sailing a few feet away, clattering into another pile.

The bone cracked on impact, breaking off a chunk of grey rock from the floor. The cavern was apparently closed on all sides, and the walls were unnotable except for the altar. As he glanced around further, he noticed a squid-like network of cracks in the wall.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the cracks, curiosity burning in his mind. Slowly and cautiously - with his dagger out and held ready over his shoulder - he moved towards them and hesitantly pressed a hand against them.

They shifted slightly, but slid back into place. He needed a better grip. More light would help, too.

He glanced around, eyes finally locking on the two torches that were positioned on either side of the altar. With a new excitement flooding his veins, all caution was thrown to the winds as he dashed over to the altar. That excitement was chilled to a dull throb when he came close to the stone table, however. The freeze of fear could easily do that to someone, and it did just that to him.

It was such a strange and ghastly sight, this altar. It screamed arcane arts and devil worship - and had there been any trace of blood, he would have guessed human sacrifices as well. It looked like it could easily be the breeding ground for a dark cult...except for the fact that it seemed totally abandoned.

Grabbing one of the torches, he quickly yanked it out of the ground and moved back towards the cracks, jamming it down between two rocks to hold it upright.

The torch sprayed green light over the cracks in the wall, revealing a subtle bas-relief of a series of twisting figures, a language that made your head throb even more fiercely than it already did.

He closed his eyes, as gasp ripping from his mouth as he doubled over. What the hell had just happened?

A quiet whisper filled his mind. I see you...

He gasped again - this time in fear. He felt as if that single gasp had wrenched away the whole lungfulls of breath that he had in his body, leaving his body weak and shivering. He fell to his knees before finding his voice.

It was rough, and ragged - sounding almost...like a wanderer's, or a warrior's. Perhaps a ranger - or maybe a soldier. "Wh...Who are you?"

A cold feeling ran through his bones. Then the feeling was gone, almost like it had never been there at all.

He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. He suddenly felt...cold...so, so cold...

It took several long minutes for his limbs to steady themselves, for his heart rate to return to normal and for his breath to come back. Even when they did, he didn't stand up. Rather, he fell back into a sitting position, moaning softly. What was going on?

A groan and shifting sounds came from behind him.

Firing up onto his knees, he fell into a crouch on the balls of his toes as he pulled the dagger from his belt, holding it high and ready as his eyes searched the darkness. His body was tensed like a tiger, ready to pounce.

((Cue the next person to wake up ^.^))

Last edited by ForceFightWMe12; 09-06-2007 at 06:24 PM.
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