Post by Drakesonian on Oct 23, 2015 15:31:01 GMT
Alexander would lay there in a makeshift house where an apothecary laid, making slow work on his body after the incident of Golnar's encounter. His new armor lingered hauntingly in the shadows, as his old is being ripped off his melting flesh. Whilst a yellow glow flows from his body as the person attending to his body worked restlessly to help with his recovery. Although in constant pain his will remained strong that his duty was not done yet, and he will take to the field once more. Smiling at the thought of embracing the fields of battle once more, and the future horrors that awaits him. But as he laid there he would just whisper silently to himself a prayer, before talking in a pained voice to the apothecary.
"The worst recovery is when you are not injured... When you lay on your bed helpless and defenseless... When the ones you love, the ones you were with for years would suddenly fall at the hands of the enemy. Where you can just listen to their screams of help, and know that you can't do anything. To go out with open arms and cloth-less would be a death sentence, to where even at night. When that is the thing you wake up to, that haunting memory that will stick with you forever. People... Say that you can recover and move forward, but what is life to move forward from when this terrible curse we are burdened with continues to repeat history? Like a cycle we cannot change, like fate, set in stone. How can we enjoy life... How can we settle in this world without suffering? It makes us stronger, but the weight just grows, my memory continues to collect, and the stories I hear... It grows in numbers of untold hundreds to thousands. I cannot forget... I will not... Not while I lay in a bed... It will never end so long as I can hear those screams of the innocent echo beyond the wall. This. These occurrence will never end... So this is why I have set my fate to rather die on the field then at home with my loved ones, and friends that are so dear to me. I would rather smile at the thought of death for them than to cower in fear from the shadows... But for all I know I may be wrong... Perhaps I may retire and wait for a daemon to end me... So is my fate is it not?"
His eyes rolled temporarily from the shock of pain coursing through his body as his magic disappeared, the apothecary hurrying his work to sedate him and maintain his scarred body. Half his face was burnt, his hair singed, and parts of his arm melded with metal as flesh forcefully works around. His voice fades as he soon enters back into the dreamworld, a dark, quiet, abyss.
"The worst recovery is when you are not injured... When you lay on your bed helpless and defenseless... When the ones you love, the ones you were with for years would suddenly fall at the hands of the enemy. Where you can just listen to their screams of help, and know that you can't do anything. To go out with open arms and cloth-less would be a death sentence, to where even at night. When that is the thing you wake up to, that haunting memory that will stick with you forever. People... Say that you can recover and move forward, but what is life to move forward from when this terrible curse we are burdened with continues to repeat history? Like a cycle we cannot change, like fate, set in stone. How can we enjoy life... How can we settle in this world without suffering? It makes us stronger, but the weight just grows, my memory continues to collect, and the stories I hear... It grows in numbers of untold hundreds to thousands. I cannot forget... I will not... Not while I lay in a bed... It will never end so long as I can hear those screams of the innocent echo beyond the wall. This. These occurrence will never end... So this is why I have set my fate to rather die on the field then at home with my loved ones, and friends that are so dear to me. I would rather smile at the thought of death for them than to cower in fear from the shadows... But for all I know I may be wrong... Perhaps I may retire and wait for a daemon to end me... So is my fate is it not?"
His eyes rolled temporarily from the shock of pain coursing through his body as his magic disappeared, the apothecary hurrying his work to sedate him and maintain his scarred body. Half his face was burnt, his hair singed, and parts of his arm melded with metal as flesh forcefully works around. His voice fades as he soon enters back into the dreamworld, a dark, quiet, abyss.