Post by lloyd on Mar 25, 2015 21:19:45 GMT -5
What was I thinking, rushing in there?
His mind raced; the first bugbear was easily shocked with the trick from the journal. When the second bugbear came, the electricity that so readily lanced up the first one decided Bilkin was a better conductor this time. And so the world went blurry in a flash as all his muscles convulsed for a few moments, and his brain screamed "PAIN PAIN PAIN" over and over, trying to get him to recoil to no avail. Through the haze of electrocution, he saw the bugbear before him pause at the strange sight, and as soon as the convulsions stopped, raised its sword and brought it down upon the warlock.
The world went dark, though he still seemed to be quite aware in it. Oh, yes, in fact, he saw several... motes of light around him. Some bigger, some smaller, but the curious thing was that they were all moving and pulsating frantically. It didn't take him long to realise these were his companions and the bugbears, or, rather, their life forces. He looked down, but saw no familiar robes or hands. In fact, he seemed to have no body at all... A sudden frightening chill took hold of him, and he saw a strange blackness roll in like fog, all around him, slowly swirling.
Well, this is grim.
Out of the mist materialised a tall, dark figure. It slowly approached him, his essence getting colder and colder the closer it got. What he surmised to be a hand slowly extended towards him, and a voice permeated every fabric of his being, speaking in a tongue that seemed to resonate with his life essence, something primordial, persuading him to do... what? When the hand seemed to be mere inches away from him, a series of bright flashes, like lightning, lit the demiplane up, making what could only be assumed to be Andul, the god of death, recoil, and a low, but deeply resonating hum made the entire place waver and the fog of death slowly retract. Somewhere, from beyond even this limbo of existence between planes, a flood of angry utterings descended, and dark... limbs surrounded Bilkin's essence, claiming him, protecting him from the god of death. A deep, alternating exchange happened between the figure and He Who Whispers, with deep tones and a myriad of whispers coming from Him, and a sighing, rasping, forgotten tongue from the dark figure. Eventually, the figure retreated, turning around once, whatever passed for what Bilkin assumed were eyes staring right at Bilkin, as if to say NEXT TIME YOU WON'T BE SO LUCKY, but seemed to change its mind and turned around, its shoulders shaking as if it was... Laughing?
The black fog quickly disappeared with the figure, the limbs retracted back to... wherever they came from. A piercing, yet relieving light penetrated the area, and Bilkin opened his eyes to a worried, gravy-smeared Dralban. The sudden realization of what he had experienced threw his brain into turmoil, and his body heaved-- he turned from Dralban quickly, and vomited on the ground, gasping for air afterwards.
This creature of the Far Realm has sway over far more than just my sanity...
He got up, shaking, looked at the still-worried Dralban and stammered out a "T-t-th- thanks" and quickly shuffled to make sure the Journal was still in his large robe pocket. It was. Somewhat relieved, he silently went to sit back in the tavern, ignoring their interrupted breakfast on the table, and stared, unseeing, at the journal's pages, flipping them.
What have I signed my soul away to?
The whispers resumed their barely unintelligible, benign white noise in his head.
His mind raced; the first bugbear was easily shocked with the trick from the journal. When the second bugbear came, the electricity that so readily lanced up the first one decided Bilkin was a better conductor this time. And so the world went blurry in a flash as all his muscles convulsed for a few moments, and his brain screamed "PAIN PAIN PAIN" over and over, trying to get him to recoil to no avail. Through the haze of electrocution, he saw the bugbear before him pause at the strange sight, and as soon as the convulsions stopped, raised its sword and brought it down upon the warlock.
The world went dark, though he still seemed to be quite aware in it. Oh, yes, in fact, he saw several... motes of light around him. Some bigger, some smaller, but the curious thing was that they were all moving and pulsating frantically. It didn't take him long to realise these were his companions and the bugbears, or, rather, their life forces. He looked down, but saw no familiar robes or hands. In fact, he seemed to have no body at all... A sudden frightening chill took hold of him, and he saw a strange blackness roll in like fog, all around him, slowly swirling.
Well, this is grim.
Out of the mist materialised a tall, dark figure. It slowly approached him, his essence getting colder and colder the closer it got. What he surmised to be a hand slowly extended towards him, and a voice permeated every fabric of his being, speaking in a tongue that seemed to resonate with his life essence, something primordial, persuading him to do... what? When the hand seemed to be mere inches away from him, a series of bright flashes, like lightning, lit the demiplane up, making what could only be assumed to be Andul, the god of death, recoil, and a low, but deeply resonating hum made the entire place waver and the fog of death slowly retract. Somewhere, from beyond even this limbo of existence between planes, a flood of angry utterings descended, and dark... limbs surrounded Bilkin's essence, claiming him, protecting him from the god of death. A deep, alternating exchange happened between the figure and He Who Whispers, with deep tones and a myriad of whispers coming from Him, and a sighing, rasping, forgotten tongue from the dark figure. Eventually, the figure retreated, turning around once, whatever passed for what Bilkin assumed were eyes staring right at Bilkin, as if to say NEXT TIME YOU WON'T BE SO LUCKY, but seemed to change its mind and turned around, its shoulders shaking as if it was... Laughing?
The black fog quickly disappeared with the figure, the limbs retracted back to... wherever they came from. A piercing, yet relieving light penetrated the area, and Bilkin opened his eyes to a worried, gravy-smeared Dralban. The sudden realization of what he had experienced threw his brain into turmoil, and his body heaved-- he turned from Dralban quickly, and vomited on the ground, gasping for air afterwards.
This creature of the Far Realm has sway over far more than just my sanity...
He got up, shaking, looked at the still-worried Dralban and stammered out a "T-t-th- thanks" and quickly shuffled to make sure the Journal was still in his large robe pocket. It was. Somewhat relieved, he silently went to sit back in the tavern, ignoring their interrupted breakfast on the table, and stared, unseeing, at the journal's pages, flipping them.
What have I signed my soul away to?
The whispers resumed their barely unintelligible, benign white noise in his head.
