Netheril : Age of Magic
In Character => Journals & Backgrounds => Topic started by: Dagonlives on February 27, 2019, 07:31:57 am
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And he dreamed of Gods dying, and the lights fatal theft.
Of maggots in his in brain and his comrades end, again and again and again.
(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/68/7b/de/687bde088ada395c44466cf6c6f24497.jpg)
He dreamed of light, and pillars and sun. Of a great gate to Celestia borne wide open. He was floating, flying upward and rapture was open his face. Final reward at last, dedication for services rendered. Glorious light upon his face. Searing pain. Sudden searing pain. A weight upon his ankle as a skeletal claw reached down and dragged, the skull-faced visage of Roz'dha rotting upon it.
(https://www.ancient-origins.net/sites/default/files/field/image/Hell-of-Tartarus.jpg)
The shrieks surrounded him and pain filled his very essence. Aching and cold. They moaned and gnashed their teeth in the dark bit, never ceasing their call for him to join them. And he was with them, a mindless automaton of flesh, trapped in the Pit.
Until he woke once more. A man in grey armor, upon a white bunk bed, and there was the creaking of the frames and sound of morning reveille in the dark.