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<blockquote data-quote="covaithe" data-source="post: 4954705" data-attributes="member: 46559">Sarenax feels a sharp pain as the thorn goes in, which quickly fades, replaced by an excruciating pain in the joints of his hand, which swells and stiffens into a gnarled fist.&nbsp; The pain grows in throbbing waves, and the terrible swelling spreads up Sarenax's arm.&nbsp; After two dozen racing heartbeats, his breathing slows to a shuddering gasp, and his eyes roll up in their sockets.&nbsp; [sblock=Sarenax]Your sight dims and grows slightly faint, as if there were a very thin white cloth in front of your face.&nbsp; You feel terribly tired.&nbsp; Breathing is a vast exertion, such that with each breath you wonder how you will muster the strength for the next.&nbsp; Suddenly you realize that soon you will not.&nbsp; It doesn't matter whether it's one or two more breaths, or a hundred million.&nbsp; That, despite resurrection magic, lichdom, and even deification if that is your fate, sooner or later your physical self will cease to be, and whatever is left of you, if anything, will become something else.&nbsp; This is not exactly news; you've known for most of your life that you would die, and as all living beings must, have made your own peace with the idea.&nbsp; But until now, you never really felt, deep in your bones, the inevitability of it.&nbsp; You will die.&nbsp; And She will be waiting.&nbsp; With this realization, your pain dips to bearable levels, and your eyes return to normal.[/sblock]After only a few seconds, Sarenax breathes normally, eyes rolling back down and opening.&nbsp; The thorn falls from his hand, leaving the swelling and stiffness behind, along with some painful black welts beneath the skin reaching up past the elbow.A slight breeze swirls the mist for a moment, and suddenly there are two three paths onward visible through the mists, one to the north and one each to the east and west.&nbsp; [sblock=ooc]Sarenax takes 30 necrotic damage, but the first gate is passed![/sblock]</blockquote>

[QUOTE="covaithe, post: 4954705, member: 46559"] Sarenax feels a sharp pain as the thorn goes in, which quickly fades, replaced by an excruciating pain in the joints of his hand, which swells and stiffens into a gnarled fist. The pain grows in throbbing waves, and the terrible swelling spreads up Sarenax's arm. After two dozen racing heartbeats, his breathing slows to a shuddering gasp, and his eyes roll up in their sockets. [sblock=Sarenax]Your sight dims and grows slightly faint, as if there were a very thin white cloth in front of your face. You feel terribly tired. Breathing is a vast exertion, such that with each breath you wonder how you will muster the strength for the next. Suddenly you realize that soon you will not. It doesn't matter whether it's one or two more breaths, or a hundred million. That, despite resurrection magic, lichdom, and even deification if that is your fate, sooner or later your physical self will cease to be, and whatever is left of you, if anything, will become something else. This is not exactly news; you've known for most of your life that you would die, and as all living beings must, have made your own peace with the idea. But until now, you never really felt, deep in your bones, the inevitability of it. You [i]will[/i] die. And She will be waiting. With this realization, your pain dips to bearable levels, and your eyes return to normal. [/sblock] After only a few seconds, Sarenax breathes normally, eyes rolling back down and opening. The thorn falls from his hand, leaving the swelling and stiffness behind, along with some painful black welts beneath the skin reaching up past the elbow. A slight breeze swirls the mist for a moment, and suddenly there are two three paths onward visible through the mists, one to the north and one each to the east and west. [sblock=ooc]Sarenax takes 30 necrotic damage, but the first gate is passed![/sblock] [/QUOTE]

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