Post by ambnz on Mar 2, 2016 11:06:44 GMT -7
Turlagh awoke gasping, trying as hard as he could to fill his lungs with air.
He mumbled a thanks to the stranger and proceeded to apply the expensive salve needed to complete the reinvigoration. Well, there goes the rest of my money he thought.
The last thing he could recall was facing down a giant troll creature before he had blacked out. (@ )
For the first time in a while Turlagh simply felt....tired. Most of the time he felt like he could roll with most punches, still see the humor in grim places, and get along just fine most days without feeling homesick. Today though...today was not going to be a good day. These missions lately, they just seemed to be..... a stroke of bad luck. First it was a clean cleave through his chest in an all but assured victory (@ ). That had been the first time he had died. Blacking out was one thing but death was....cold. He didn't like it one bit.
Then it was getting turned to fucking stone by that snake woman ( @ ). She still haunted his dreams sometimes. He had tried his best to offer surrender, tried his best to do the right thing. And all it had done was put his life in danger. When he had realized that the barbarian had beheaded her, Turlagh had gotten so sick he had vomited right then. She was just scared. She was almost my age he had realized.
Walking back to his shack in the slums, Turlagh walked by the Golden Plough. He contemplated going in, but decided against it. He didn't feel like adventuring right now, or even having a drink with anyone other than himself.
Turlagh slammed the door open to his home. He regarded the dirty, smelly, small shed that was his home and looked around at the water damage caused by the recent flooding. Memories of death still lingering in his mind, he reached under his bed for the bottle of cheap whiskey. He tried not to drop the bottle as his hands began to shake. In all those disasters, he had just tried to be brave. He took a long swig from the bottle. Then another, and then another. He drank to his death, his lost family, his loneliness, and to the "woman" who he knew would never love him back.
Then he began to weep.
He mumbled a thanks to the stranger and proceeded to apply the expensive salve needed to complete the reinvigoration. Well, there goes the rest of my money he thought.
The last thing he could recall was facing down a giant troll creature before he had blacked out. (@ )
For the first time in a while Turlagh simply felt....tired. Most of the time he felt like he could roll with most punches, still see the humor in grim places, and get along just fine most days without feeling homesick. Today though...today was not going to be a good day. These missions lately, they just seemed to be..... a stroke of bad luck. First it was a clean cleave through his chest in an all but assured victory (@ ). That had been the first time he had died. Blacking out was one thing but death was....cold. He didn't like it one bit.
Then it was getting turned to fucking stone by that snake woman ( @ ). She still haunted his dreams sometimes. He had tried his best to offer surrender, tried his best to do the right thing. And all it had done was put his life in danger. When he had realized that the barbarian had beheaded her, Turlagh had gotten so sick he had vomited right then. She was just scared. She was almost my age he had realized.
Walking back to his shack in the slums, Turlagh walked by the Golden Plough. He contemplated going in, but decided against it. He didn't feel like adventuring right now, or even having a drink with anyone other than himself.
Turlagh slammed the door open to his home. He regarded the dirty, smelly, small shed that was his home and looked around at the water damage caused by the recent flooding. Memories of death still lingering in his mind, he reached under his bed for the bottle of cheap whiskey. He tried not to drop the bottle as his hands began to shake. In all those disasters, he had just tried to be brave. He took a long swig from the bottle. Then another, and then another. He drank to his death, his lost family, his loneliness, and to the "woman" who he knew would never love him back.
Then he began to weep.