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| Rudely awoken; [x] Opening post, no replies | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun Aug 12, 2012 10:18 pm (270 Views) | |
| Morte | Sun Aug 12, 2012 10:18 pm Post #1 |
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300 years ago... give or take Morte ran as fast as he could through the ensuing chaos that had decided to take place in the halls of the arcane school. He ducked past a mad sword wielding warrior, dodged a fireball spell that was five inches away from cooking his face and stepped over a corpse of someone whose stomach had met the business end of an arrow. He had considered helping his fellow wizards with the barbarian invasion but watching a wizard being skewered by a barbarians sword had quickly helped him make a decision to fun as fast as he could. Preferably in the opposite direction of the mas slaughter. Morte was no hero. Being a hero was all good for those who could handle it, but Morte wasn't one of those people. He could barely fling a fireball spell, let alone save the day. Nope, better to leave the hero business to the people who were in a hurry to die. The invading barbarians probably weren't going to agree with this, which was a bit of a problem for Morte when he turned the corner and bumped into one of them. Morte hit the ground and looked up at the face of the person who was probably going to kill him. He was glad that he had fallen on the floor because his legs had turned to jelly after looking at the insane look on the barbarian's face. It was a look at said "I want to do terrible, unspeakable things to you with the gigantic axe I'm holding,". And judging from the gallons of blood that covered the barbarians hairy chest, he had been practising his trade of mass slaughter on many of Morte's fellow wizards. Morte gulped. He knew he was to die. And so he stood up, with some great difficulty. In contrast to his muscular psychopathic counterpart, Morte was a small and weedy fellow. The wizards robes he was wearing covered the skinny frame he possessed. And the hood he wore covered his narrow, gaunt face. A face which suddenly put on a determined look, for Morte had decided he was going to go out swinging. He may be the worst wizard to walk through the arches of the university, but he wasn't going to die snivelling like a baby. He rose up and prepared to cast a fireball spell. He knew he wasn't going to set the barbarian on fire... but maybe, with some luck, he could burn his killer's nipples or singe his chest hair or something. At that point, many thoughts rushed through Morte's head. How he would never get to say goodbye to his family, or how he wished he had tried harder in class. But he remembered the last thing to go through his head was the barbarian's axe as it sank deep into his skull. As Morte sank to his knees, his hands jerked out uncontrollably. Fortunately Morte was halfway through the fireball spell which meant that, at that point, his hands were on fire. And as they touched the barbarian's chest, Morte died hearing the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The sound of the barbarian screaming: "AAAARRRRRGGGGH, MY BLOODY NIPPLES!!!" And then he began to sink. Well not sink exactly, it was a sensation similar to having that dream where your falling. Your body tingles all over and you feel as if you're falling inside of yourself. Except this time, Morte didn't jerk awake. And then, there was light. And it felt good. Really good actually. It was as if he was never going to feel a bad thing again. Hey... this wasn't all that bad. If he knew death was going to feel this good then he would have stayed in the front line of the defence. As Morte began to float into the heavens, he smiled to himself at the thought of an eternity of bliss and peace. And then some inconsiderate git resurrected him. Present day It was very sudden, not unlike his demise. One minute he was floating to the heavens, the next he jolted up and banged his head on something. Something velvety and hard. As he opened his eyes, Morte looked around and waited for everything to come into focus. When he could see straight, he registered that was in, what must have been, a coffin. He pushed up against the lid and was surprised to find that it came off fairly easily. Bright light hit his eyes and Morte had to put his hand over his face. Which was when he first noticed a sign that things weren't right... well, the second sign. The first was coming back from the dead. Morte was expecting to see his his pasty white hand. But instead he saw... well, it was still white. Morte sat up and looked over himself. It took a while to register with him but the truth was undeniable... he was a skeleton. Just like the one that hung up on the wall in the biology classroom. He had no internal organs, which raised all sorts of questions. It also explained why he wasn't feeling shocked at the revelation that he was now a skeleton. No heart to leap into his throat. He looked around and saw that he had obviously been dead for quite some time. He wasn't in the arcane academy any more. Instead, everything was in ruins. How long had he been dead for, it only felt like a few moments to him but it had evidently been decades. Morte stood up and clambered out of his grave. There wasn't anyone here. No-one at all... although there were a lot of empty graves around him. So he wasn't the only one who had been rudely woken up. But he had been rudely left behind. "Oh that's bloody lovely that," he muttered... Wait, he could speak? But he had not voicebox, so how could he... actually, he would think on that later. Now he needed to make himself scarce before anyone came across him. He had been buried in his wizards robes, which had begun to decay somewhat from age. He put his hood up, hoping he could hide his face from people, and wondered off in a random direction. He needed to figure out his bearings quickly... |
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6:58 PM Jul 11

