An unfamiliar feeling.

It's happy hour, the alcohol is flowing. It's time to pull up a tankard of ale, bottle of wine for the ladies and regail tales of heroism and grandeur.

Topic/Postby Reathor » 24 Nov 2009, 23:50

An unfamiliar feeling.

A cold chill awoke Reathor Abruptly from his sleep, his eyes opened and he looked around. The warmth and comfort of the room he was sleeping in was gone, replaced with a damp, dark cavern. A single flickering light, hanging from the roof of the cave gave some light, and a hazy blue mist swirled about the Paladins feet. Where he had laid on a warm, soft bed, he now lay on a crude slab of stone, night garments replaced with his armour.

Slowly, Reathor rose, looking around the cavern as best he could, his eyes squinting, trying to adjust to the light.

“where…am I?”

The cavern floor illuminated a small amount, revealing a demoniac circle, the markings resembling almost identically the marking shown in the book he had given Ceruse earlier. He stood, almost transfixed to the spot, examining the runes.

Welcome back, Alexander.

The voice sent shivers down the paladins spine, and he turned on the spot, looking around franticly for the voice, it sounded…ethereal almost, yet familiar, as if he had heard it only days before, but where he could not remember. Wherever it was from, the voice instilled in Reathor a feeling he had almost forgotten, his heart racing as he looked around for the voice.
He turned sharply, feeling a cold breath at the back of his neck, what he saw would have made him yell, but no sound came from his mouth.

Three corpses lay on the ground, their garments mimicking those exactly of the cultists he encountered not a day ago, cautiously, he moved towards the closest, and slowly removed the cowl covering its face. The flesh was gone, and skin, leaving only the skeleton, cracked and damaged, showing signs of where this cultist met his end the previous day.


Again the paladin turned, but this time, instead of seeing nothing, he saw it. A man, standing a few inches taller than Reathor, dressed in armour, looking like that from the forges of Acherus, Long, grey hair ran hung from his head, and his eye sockets were empty, replaced with a deathly blue glow. A glowing Runeblade was gripped tightly in one hand, and the man smirked, his stare seeming to chill Reathor to the bone.
The Death Knight appeared to laugh, walking towards Reathor, each step echoing through the Cavern. Reathor panicked, grabbing for his spear, and trying to take a step back, his movement cut short by chains of ice that wrapped themselves around his feet. He tried to shake them free, but it was no use, they were tight, he was trapped.
The Death Knight continued to step closer, and Reathor’s actions became further out of desperation with each passing second, his body refused to work with him, rooting him to the spot, he tried to raises his weapon to defend himself, he could move his arms. He tried to shout out, no sound came. A feeling the paladin had not felt for so long rushed through him, transfixing him to the spot, he felt fear.

The Knight was now before him, and still Reathor couldn’t move, the Runeblade was raised above his head.
A voice from elsewhere rung though Reathor’s head, and he closed his eyes, feeling the rune blades presence as it swung down at him..

The paladin opened his eyes, his still beating rapidly, and gazed upwards, he felt the warmth of the bed against his back, and heard a familiar, friendly voice next to him.
“What’s wrong?”
Reathor’s breathing began to slow, he continued to stare up at the ceiling.
“its...nothing, go back to sleep”

He lay, staring upwards as his breathing returned to normal and warmth returned to his body, all of it except one part, which quickly caught his attention. Reathor looked down at his right hand, and his eyes widened, The scars, almost tattooing his entire right hand, a permanent reminder of a past encounter with Cultists, now glew, with a blue, almost ethereal light, matching the mist that had swirled around him in the cave. His heartbeat again quickened, and he clenched his fist, the feeling of fear still hanging over him. Surely it hadn’t been real...or had it?
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