DR 1340, 8
th of Hammer, unknown location
Pain.... It courses through you, like a searing spit rammed through the length of your torso, from hip to neck. White motes blanket the corners of your eyes, as the excruciating ache burns through you. Your limbs afire, and yet unfeeling.
Is this what it feels like to die? Air flees from your lungs, your vision instantly darkens, you fade from one hell only to rise in another as the
pain does....not....end. Your thoughts can't be contained, can't be fully formed. Gasping for air, for a moment of reprieve, for a lapse in this ceaseless agony. It doesn't come.
You hear screaming, roaring, and a thunderous howl. You aren't sure if it is your own body giving voice to the infinite ache radiating throughout. You sense hopelessness wash over you. Consume you. Weightless, and lost in your own mindscape, desperately seeking refuge from the
pain. Then, as if on cue, your body relents. An intense burst of white slams your mind. You feel numbness, pins and needles, everywhere. Coldness creeps in to replace the numbness. Boreal, stinging cold. Searing hot cold. You wake and open your eyes, gasping for huge breathes of air... that come and warm you from within.
You can barely shift a muscle. Ice cracks and flakes off your flesh with each breathe. Slowly and steadily, you begin to feel warmth from within, and through. Your flesh, the color of a frozen corpse, slowly regains its correct pigment. You feel your blood pushing itself through your icy veins. And you know you are alive. The entire area around you looks as if an arctic storm had burst forth from where you lie, and then was suddenly quelled. Trees lay shattered and blown back by unseen icy winds. Bushes and grasses flash-frozen solid. The very earth upon which you lie has been turned to tundra. As your mind clears, and eases from the living hell it just woke from, thoughts begin to take form, turning to questions, which become voice. You clear your throat. It is very hoarse, sore, and you cough out puffs of snowflakes and chunks of ice, and frozen blood. Warmth returning to your vocal chords, your voice pushes its way up out of your thawed lungs. You listen for a response, but none comes. You are probably alone.
A thousand miles of unknown land between you and anything you find familiar, or so it would seem. Your eyes wander, as you push your atrophied muscles to their thawed limits, and climb to your feet. Save for the incredibly circular winter devastation around you, out for several yards, you perceive that you are safe, but are the only sentient being within your sight. Head still clearing away the remembered pain, you notice that you are naked. Head to toe, as if a new-born babe. You stumble over something under your feet, and kneel down to investigate. A dark blue satchel lie in a hole under you. As if the earth itself formed around it. You dig it up, clawing at the frozen earth, hands aching, fingers throbbing, and it is heavy. You unlock the clasp, and within are your belongings. You know they are yours, you remember them each, but can't recall where you got them. You try to remember. The
pain strikes you again. White motes appear in the corners of your vision as your mind is chilled to its core. You instinctively relinquish your grasp of the satchel, to grasp the sides of your head. It falls to the ground in a muffled thump. Your mind reels, and you lose focus on your memories. You clear your head of thoughts, of events long past, of places near and far, and the
pain slowly resides. Lifting the satchel to your shoulder, you contemplate the meaning of your amnesia, and the
pain it suddenly brings.
GM: | each character is exhausted and at half their maximum hitpoints. Your prepared spells and spell slots are gone from the shock. Your connection to the divine forces of the world seems stifled and your abilities unusable, for now. For those that are resistant or immune to cold and/or fire, the experience was quite harrowing as that resistance or immunity was of no avail. For those with other powers, you are temporarily unbuffed, and left to your wits alone. | |
OOC:
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exhausted- move at half speed, -6 penalty to strength and dexterity, can't run or charge. Normally requires 1 hour of complete rest to better the condition to fatigued
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GM: | each of you will receive a further personal post, following this one. please, only respond to this post's information, and that of your own personal post. | |