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Valley of the Dead: Chapter 2 "Home of the sleepless"
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<blockquote data-quote="Zerith" data-source="post: 5868959" data-attributes="member: 99953"><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Zinerath took the opportunity to get himself, and his things, cleaned of the filth that had been plaguing him; by the time he had finished he was very tired and, while he would have liked to do other things during the early night, he wanted to rest more.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">he could feel the darkening rings beneath his eyes weigh on him and he head to his tent, he found it to be, not where he wanted it, not that he much cared by this point.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">When he peered into the tent he saw what he instinctively knew to be a flask of holy water, for the demon child to foolishly drink and thus smite himself.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">It was <em>Horribly</em> uninventive and even more tired than he was.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Zinerath walked into the tent, took the flask, walked back out, looked calmly to the stars, had a deep drink, in full sight of the guards that his tent was placed in front of, gave a long sigh of refreshment and reentered the tent and left the flaps open, he knew Geryk well enough to know that he would be checked on.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">he also took the opportunity to dime the light in his tent and watch the watchman with dimly glowing crimson eyes.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">[sblock=M&M]Latter on, once he was left to his own devices for the night, he would tightly close the flaps of his tent, as if doing so in hastened preparation for an oncoming hurricane beforetaking off his cloak, stuffing part of it into his mouth and then sliding into the bed roll, he closed his eyes and sleep was finding him swiftly, but he never truly wanted it, the nightmare.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Not yet asleep, he already knew what awaited him.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Scenes of hell and of the abyss, he did not like them, but he had seen them for so many years they no longer truly bothered him, or it might have been his heritage that let him withstand the horrors he had to face each night without batting an eye anymore. The thing that hunted his nightmares, it was something new, it was the word why.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">It was a word spoken by Ambrose, as Zinerath murdered the man.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Zinerath knew that Ambrose struck him first, but Ambrose was compelled to do so by magic, beyond this, Zinerath no longer knows if the event went as Geryk recalls, where he struck down Ambrose swiftly before moving on, or as it is depicted in his nightmares where Ambrose swiftly recovers his senses, acts only in defense while pleading ith Zinerath to stop while the devil spawned youth only cackles all the higher, all the more merry before being stuck down helpless. Then Geryk calls out for aid and Zinerath, doing what he has always done with a helpless opponent when called, delivered a deathblow and went about his busyness.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Just before the death blow is given, Ambrose always asks why, not in desperation, not in anger, not in shock, just simple wonder, wonder in why something, someone, who was not deemed evil by his god could have such bloodlust. Zinerath walk away and then the loop happens, Ambrose asks why, Zinerath murders him, Ambrose asks why, Zinerath murders him, the cycle drums on and on until Zinerath finally awakes with a gut churning screech of a yelp, muffled by his makeshift gag.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px">Knowing what awaited him, he could feel himself drift off to sleep; yet he took solace in the fact he would awaken long before first light.[/sblock]</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Zerith, post: 5868959, member: 99953"] [FONT=Verdana][SIZE=2]Zinerath took the opportunity to get himself, and his things, cleaned of the filth that had been plaguing him; by the time he had finished he was very tired and, while he would have liked to do other things during the early night, he wanted to rest more. he could feel the darkening rings beneath his eyes weigh on him and he head to his tent, he found it to be, not where he wanted it, not that he much cared by this point. When he peered into the tent he saw what he instinctively knew to be a flask of holy water, for the demon child to foolishly drink and thus smite himself. It was [I]Horribly[/I] uninventive and even more tired than he was. Zinerath walked into the tent, took the flask, walked back out, looked calmly to the stars, had a deep drink, in full sight of the guards that his tent was placed in front of, gave a long sigh of refreshment and reentered the tent and left the flaps open, he knew Geryk well enough to know that he would be checked on. he also took the opportunity to dime the light in his tent and watch the watchman with dimly glowing crimson eyes. [sblock=M&M]Latter on, once he was left to his own devices for the night, he would tightly close the flaps of his tent, as if doing so in hastened preparation for an oncoming hurricane beforetaking off his cloak, stuffing part of it into his mouth and then sliding into the bed roll, he closed his eyes and sleep was finding him swiftly, but he never truly wanted it, the nightmare. Not yet asleep, he already knew what awaited him. Scenes of hell and of the abyss, he did not like them, but he had seen them for so many years they no longer truly bothered him, or it might have been his heritage that let him withstand the horrors he had to face each night without batting an eye anymore. The thing that hunted his nightmares, it was something new, it was the word why. It was a word spoken by Ambrose, as Zinerath murdered the man. Zinerath knew that Ambrose struck him first, but Ambrose was compelled to do so by magic, beyond this, Zinerath no longer knows if the event went as Geryk recalls, where he struck down Ambrose swiftly before moving on, or as it is depicted in his nightmares where Ambrose swiftly recovers his senses, acts only in defense while pleading ith Zinerath to stop while the devil spawned youth only cackles all the higher, all the more merry before being stuck down helpless. Then Geryk calls out for aid and Zinerath, doing what he has always done with a helpless opponent when called, delivered a deathblow and went about his busyness. Just before the death blow is given, Ambrose always asks why, not in desperation, not in anger, not in shock, just simple wonder, wonder in why something, someone, who was not deemed evil by his god could have such bloodlust. Zinerath walk away and then the loop happens, Ambrose asks why, Zinerath murders him, Ambrose asks why, Zinerath murders him, the cycle drums on and on until Zinerath finally awakes with a gut churning screech of a yelp, muffled by his makeshift gag. Knowing what awaited him, he could feel himself drift off to sleep; yet he took solace in the fact he would awaken long before first light.[/sblock][/SIZE][/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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