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IC: Skeleton Quest - Origins
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<blockquote data-quote="Li Shenron" data-source="post: 2728240" data-attributes="member: 1465"><p>The skeleton in rags rises from the cold table and grabs its equipment from underneath. No thoughts in its mind, as it seemed to follow some pre-programmed orders, then it stands up motionless.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: MediumTurquoise">"...and not all books pertain to arcane mysteries..."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: Blue">"...I seem to be a divine follower of Nurkal..."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: DarkGreen">...My newly-acquired ... companion, here, I shall name... "</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"><span style="color: Magenta">"...That would be quaint to watch..." </span> </span> </p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"><span style="color: Cyan">"...WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME..."</span> </span> </p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="color: Yellow">"...I am somewhat concerned that this man may have been killed by someone else and that someone else may still be around."</span></span></p><p></p><p>Sound and light fade in like shapes approaching from a fog, and somehow at some point, the skeleton is sentient. But it is a sentience that has little similar to that of a mortal, for its thoughts are as blurred as shadows and yet burning like a pit of tar.</p><p></p><p>The shapes can be identified with no mistakes: a few skeletons in front of it are talking, perhaps even discussing something of certainly no importance, how can anything be important in undeath?</p><p></p><p>The skeleton still stands motionless, observing the scene. It should be scared, but there's no fear. There is no feeling whatsoever, neither spiritual nor physical, except an underlying sense of hatred towards something it cannot yet discern. Finally, it understands, without even having to look at itself: it feels little weight on its feet, no heat in its body, no touch of the vest, no taste in its mouth. <em><span style="color: Red">"I... have become dust."</span></em></p><p></p><p>The red eyes slightly shift their gaze towards the dead man on the central slab, the reason of the hatred inside becomes clear, but so becomes the lack of chance of putting it to rest, now that the master is dead, and hatred can only turn towards all those who still live.</p><p></p><p>The attention goes back to the other skeletons, which seem to have already noticed that the one with red eyes is awake in the same way they are.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: Red">"Then my name shall be Dust."</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Li Shenron, post: 2728240, member: 1465"] The skeleton in rags rises from the cold table and grabs its equipment from underneath. No thoughts in its mind, as it seemed to follow some pre-programmed orders, then it stands up motionless. [SIZE=1][COLOR=MediumTurquoise]"...and not all books pertain to arcane mysteries..."[/COLOR][/SIZE] [SIZE=1][COLOR=Blue]"...I seem to be a divine follower of Nurkal..."[/COLOR][/SIZE] [SIZE=1][COLOR=DarkGreen]...My newly-acquired ... companion, here, I shall name... "[/COLOR][/SIZE] [SIZE=2][COLOR=Magenta]"...That would be quaint to watch..." [/COLOR] [/SIZE] [SIZE=2][COLOR=Cyan]"...WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME..."[/COLOR] [/SIZE] [SIZE=3][COLOR=Yellow]"...I am somewhat concerned that this man may have been killed by someone else and that someone else may still be around."[/COLOR][/SIZE] Sound and light fade in like shapes approaching from a fog, and somehow at some point, the skeleton is sentient. But it is a sentience that has little similar to that of a mortal, for its thoughts are as blurred as shadows and yet burning like a pit of tar. The shapes can be identified with no mistakes: a few skeletons in front of it are talking, perhaps even discussing something of certainly no importance, how can anything be important in undeath? The skeleton still stands motionless, observing the scene. It should be scared, but there's no fear. There is no feeling whatsoever, neither spiritual nor physical, except an underlying sense of hatred towards something it cannot yet discern. Finally, it understands, without even having to look at itself: it feels little weight on its feet, no heat in its body, no touch of the vest, no taste in its mouth. [I][COLOR=Red]"I... have become dust."[/COLOR][/I] The red eyes slightly shift their gaze towards the dead man on the central slab, the reason of the hatred inside becomes clear, but so becomes the lack of chance of putting it to rest, now that the master is dead, and hatred can only turn towards all those who still live. The attention goes back to the other skeletons, which seem to have already noticed that the one with red eyes is awake in the same way they are. [COLOR=Red]"Then my name shall be Dust."[/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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