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Dread Marches in Sion - Act 1: Scene 1
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<blockquote data-quote="Tellerian Hawke" data-source="post: 7191906" data-attributes="member: 6790669"><p>Hours stretched out into days, perhaps weeks, before the ship came once again within sight of land. After the first three days (which had been the worst for Bastian) the priestess had freed him from his shackles, and allowed him to roam the ship freely; it was not as if he were going anywhere. All around him, for most of the voyage, were only miles and miles of empty, churning, angry ocean. It was monsoon season on the mainland, which meant that the oceans were not calm, but rather, windy, and stormy, and violent. Much like the feelings inside him. Bastian did not yet understand what had happened to him, but he suspected that his continued presence in the world of men could only be the result of the priestess' interference. She had done something to him. She had saved him, he was sure of it. But why? It was a question that he pondered for most of the trip, without the slightest hint of an answer. The priestess ignored his inquiries, telling him only that he should eat, to regain his strength, and that explanations would come in due time. Other than saying this, she largely ignored him, leaving him to his own devices.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: red">~My hair is long, and unkempt, as if it had been growing for months. My skin is hard, red, and scaly; and my teeth feel like rows of needles. I have become a monster! Why then, am I still here? Why am I not flailing around in a pit of fire, reliving the regrets of my mortal existence? And if I am a monster, vicious and malevolent, why am I not consumed with hatred and anger? I have no desire to harm the priestess, despite the fact that she is my mortal enemy. In fact, there is something about the churning seas that calm my spirit. The wound from her spear no longer pains me, but when I concentrate, I can feel a strange, tingling sensation, where the wound once was. It is clear, that I am here to serve a purpose. HER purpose. Yes, that feels right. I am hers now, to command, as one would a foot soldier. Or am I? I feel no compulsion to obey, no sense of loyalty. I suppose I should be grateful to her, to find myself still breathing, and yet, I resent her for taking pity on me. I clearly deserved to die. I deserved to be punished for my deeds, for all eternity, but she has ripped that away from me... or has she? Perhaps my current state IS a punishment, perhaps even worse than burning alive in the pits. She said that I had a chance for redemption, but what if that is merely a false hope, the carrot in front of the ass that motivates him to move forward?~</span></p><p></p><p>Bastian cleared his mind, not wanting to dwell on such things, turning his concentration to the approaching shoreline. It would still be another hour or so before they were close enough to drop anchor. Perhaps then, when they were finally ashore, the answers he sought would come. He had no way to be sure. All that remained was to wait.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Tellerian Hawke, post: 7191906, member: 6790669"] Hours stretched out into days, perhaps weeks, before the ship came once again within sight of land. After the first three days (which had been the worst for Bastian) the priestess had freed him from his shackles, and allowed him to roam the ship freely; it was not as if he were going anywhere. All around him, for most of the voyage, were only miles and miles of empty, churning, angry ocean. It was monsoon season on the mainland, which meant that the oceans were not calm, but rather, windy, and stormy, and violent. Much like the feelings inside him. Bastian did not yet understand what had happened to him, but he suspected that his continued presence in the world of men could only be the result of the priestess' interference. She had done something to him. She had saved him, he was sure of it. But why? It was a question that he pondered for most of the trip, without the slightest hint of an answer. The priestess ignored his inquiries, telling him only that he should eat, to regain his strength, and that explanations would come in due time. Other than saying this, she largely ignored him, leaving him to his own devices. [COLOR=red]~My hair is long, and unkempt, as if it had been growing for months. My skin is hard, red, and scaly; and my teeth feel like rows of needles. I have become a monster! Why then, am I still here? Why am I not flailing around in a pit of fire, reliving the regrets of my mortal existence? And if I am a monster, vicious and malevolent, why am I not consumed with hatred and anger? I have no desire to harm the priestess, despite the fact that she is my mortal enemy. In fact, there is something about the churning seas that calm my spirit. The wound from her spear no longer pains me, but when I concentrate, I can feel a strange, tingling sensation, where the wound once was. It is clear, that I am here to serve a purpose. HER purpose. Yes, that feels right. I am hers now, to command, as one would a foot soldier. Or am I? I feel no compulsion to obey, no sense of loyalty. I suppose I should be grateful to her, to find myself still breathing, and yet, I resent her for taking pity on me. I clearly deserved to die. I deserved to be punished for my deeds, for all eternity, but she has ripped that away from me... or has she? Perhaps my current state IS a punishment, perhaps even worse than burning alive in the pits. She said that I had a chance for redemption, but what if that is merely a false hope, the carrot in front of the ass that motivates him to move forward?~[/COLOR] Bastian cleared his mind, not wanting to dwell on such things, turning his concentration to the approaching shoreline. It would still be another hour or so before they were close enough to drop anchor. Perhaps then, when they were finally ashore, the answers he sought would come. He had no way to be sure. All that remained was to wait. [/QUOTE]
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