Warrior in the Shadows

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Hugh simply sat, panting, and watching the drops of sweat fall into the ground in front of him. He thought of how appropriate it might before for a cool rain to pour down on his head, to wash over him and cleanse him. Cleansing and relief, however, came from a different place this time, as the nun spoke to him.

He didn't really care much for the words, feeling rather tired and desperate from all the fighting and energy he had spent. A sudden disdain came over Hugh upon hearing the word "Young'un" to refer to himself. Hugh looked at the man, about to raise objection, before he felt the knife ripped out of his leg. This simple action was greeted by Hugh feeling a large shot of pain and decrease in adrenaline, starting to make his head feel faint. He felt ringing in his ears, as he shook his head around.

He felt better as the old nun's hands crept across him, giving a soothing healing sensation over his entire body. It was all being put back together, now.

Hugh looked to the sky, closing his eyes, and letting his hands drop to his sides as he took it all in. "Ahhh, relief." He spoke his words softly, his body feeling better than before. Although, he was feeling cold. He felt a shiver roll up his spine, as the affects of blood loss seemed to always lead towards this weak feeling.

He shook it off, standing up, and stretching out his arms. He picked up his falchion, wiping it on the clothing of the dead, and sticking it into the sheath at his side. The sound of metal scraping against metal was heard, before a clank, as the falchion was fully resting in the sheath.

Hugh sighed, looking around the now peaceful town. He was dissatisfied and annoyed. It was too much fighting for the day. Though, he had been through much worse on more occasions. Perhaps it was more tiresome now, because he didn't have a vested interest in the fight, other than staying alive. He felt as if his prowess was being used by this town of cowards, whom hid behind closed doors, not even willing to protect their rightful ground and their neighbors. "What fucking bullshit is this?" He said, looking around all of the different buildings, noting the great amount of closed shutters.

His attention was soon diverted towards the wagon load of people coming into the town. It did appear as though there was a good sized load of them, and the group that had departed early was back. A smile stretched across Hugh's face at the thought that Sana had returned. His excitement seemed uncontainable, but as he looked on at the group, his cheerful expression turned to worry.

"Sana?" He called out, speaking in a more normal tone. "Sana?!" He said, louder than before. "SANA!" He finally shouted, before quickly walking up to the group and looking through them. "SANA!" He continued to call out, his expression becoming more angry than before. He rubbed his head, looking from person to person, not seeing Sana OR Rodger.

It was like a nightmare, and he was still awake.

The Wandering Gypsy

Wade gave a satisfied grin to Ramara at her answer, more than happy for the opportunity of company and better travel. He was not particularly fond of any of the group, disliking the paladin most of all. Then again, the one whom had shouted to him about taking a bath and forced water upon him was his new traveling companion. That was a rather distasteful experience for Wade and he had put men to death for lesser offenses.

He strolled with Ramara towards the edge of the forest, coming out in time to take a look at a beautiful moon casting light down upon them. Wade's eyes seemed to perk open as he watched his surroundings. It felt like being on the battlefield again, as all of his senses seemed to concentrate on everything around him. He even looked from side to side, giving a slow scan with his eyes of every area around him.

Ramara suddenly piped in with "I have someone I need to find," causing Wade to give an eyebrow. "Well, I hope you realize that's not our only mission. I'm not with you to help you if you're not gonna help me. I need tah make a living jus' the same as you." He said rather gruffly. His eyes still concentrated on the surrounding areas.

He didn't feel intent upon smoking in the middle of the night. A flicker of flame, or a slight slow from coals would give him away, not that anyone was after them. Wade was just prone to habit.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

No sooner had Hugh announced his challenge, he was graced with the audience of the beastmaster of whom had so rudely released the beasts upon him. The man wore furs and strange clothes, very different contrast to Hugh's attire. Now it would be a one on one fight between these men, no doubt a good battle to await.

The beastmaster drew his sword, snarling angrily at the man who had snuffed the life from his precious pets. "Those..." He hissed, radiating with anger, "Were my PETS!" He held his sword in a ready stance, staring Hugh down.

Hugh shrugged, "Well, fuck me, right?" Right after issuing these odd words, the beastmaster began charging forward at Hugh, screaming as he came. Of course, this man hadn't counted on one thing; Hugh's tomahawk. With a quick movement of his arm and flick of the wrist, the tomahawk went spiraling through the air, embedding itself into the man's head. The beastmaster collapsed onto his knees, eyes wide open and staring upwards, before falling face first into the dirt.

It was a weapon Hugh hadn't the chance to use in battle very often, as people rarely stepped within the perfect range of it. This happened to be Hugh's lucky break. Not so the man lying in the dirt; he was dead.

Hugh began waving his arms around, rotating them to shake off his muscles and perhaps go back inside to drink more of his coffee. He rubbed his shoulder some more, as it slightly bled, and felt bruised and beaten. It would feel terribly sore the next day, but at least he might only need to get a little rest for this one to go away.

Of course, his relaxation was interrupted by another enemy. More like two enemies; both wielding bastard swords. Hugh groaned in contempt as he finally noticed them. They seemed completely confident that both of them would take down Hugh with ease, as they outnumbered him. Confidence in numbers, they always say.

They seemed not so entertained with Hugh, more just trying to look as intimidating as possible as they approached him. Hugh drew his battleaxe for the occasion, thinking it one of the better weapons for the job. No sooner did he do this, when he felt a blade ram into his side and knock him off balance, causing him to lose his battleaxe as he stumbled away. It wasn't exactly up to Hugh's standard for a fight; they had made the first blow, and it had cost Hugh greatly. All he hoped for was that nothing was broken, as it felt bad enough even without a broken bone.

Wincing, he drew his falchion and charged the one closest to him. He ended up tackling the man to the ground, crushing him with his full weight. To keep the man on the ground, he delivered several blows to the throat, and slammed his elbow into the man's chest, before he felt a bastard sword blade slam into his shoulder and send him into the dirt next to the man.

Hugh screamed out in agony at the feeling of his shoulder. Now he might have several broken bones. It did appear, however, that his shoulder was not broken, just in serious, agonizing, pain. He began rolling away, before finding his battleaxe.

Taking up his most prized instrument of death, he staggered to his feet. It might not have been the best choice in weaponry, as his shoulder was in pain from holding it. He settling for holding it with one hand, letting it hang limply as he eyed the man still standing over the other body. The other man seemed to be sizing Hugh up in his current state, before the man raised the sword into the air and ran at Hugh, screaming his head off.

Hugh, using all of the strength in his one arm, swung the battleaxe from one side to the other, lifting it as high as he could, hearing it rip into the man's flesh. Blood began to spurt from the man incessantly, as Hugh had managed to slice the man's throat open. The figure collapsed, gurgling on his own blood as he convulsed on the ground.

Hugh dropped his battleaxe, went over to where he left his falchion to find both the falchion and the man still on the ground. The man seemed to be groaning and rolling around, clasping his stomach, appearing to be a rather pitiful sight to behold. Hugh picked up his falchion, and confidently strode up to the crumpled figure of a man.

He didn't particularly think the man a threat at the moment, that is, until he felt a blade suddenly stab him in the leg. Hugh glared, looking at the no longer pathetic looking figure, and gasped out the words "You MISSED!"

With that, Hugh brought his blade down on the man's throat, successfully severing his head from his body in one swift motion.

Hugh dropped to his knees, the blade still stuck in his leg, and all the wounds he had gained from the brawl now weighing on him. He dropped his blade and looked to the sky, beginning to scream at it while holding his hands out at his sides to receive anything that might rain down from the heavens.

"I'M. STILL. HERE." He seemed to shout the words as a curse you to whomever was up their listening. He felt all the emotions of it all, his breathing ragged, and his body in pain. "I'll always be here." Hugh ended, speaking softer as he let his head drop, and stare at the ground.

The Wandering Gypsy

Name: Wade
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Fighter
Description:
He stands at 5'8" and is more athletically built, if not for his prominent beer gut. Otherwise the rest of him is well muscled. When not in his armor(the stuff he is wearing in the picture), he'll be wearing brown pants, with an earthen blue tunic(very much looking like a hoody), black leather boots, and a belt. Under that he wears a white linen shirt and small black shorts as undergarments.

Biography: He was born to a peasant family in a small plot of land owned by a simple lord. He had a normal peasant life for most of his teen years, until he was whisked away as a man-at-arms for a sudden war that no one really cared for except the lord, whom might lose his plot of land. Wade had grown up a very sheltered and inexperienced boy, not really keen to how the world worked or how brutal it could be. It wasn't long before they brutalized him into becoming a hardened man-at-arms, being an infantry man made him favor walking over horse back riding. As such, he doesn't ride, he runs.

Eventually Wade started taking up many different habits, all very distasteful, but all in the name of staying awake and alert or just being at ease. He was keen to smoke many different natural growing substances, such as marijuana and tobacco, never taking things that creatures created for the specific purpose of getting inebriated. Of course, he still drinks alcohol.

He's lost many friends over the years and been very bitter over it. He has taken a good share of beatings and wounds. His body is scarred and burned. If it were to be said, he has taken more mental wounds than anything else, having seen so much death since his early adulthood years. He's been part of genocides of people groups, mass slaughters. He's killed women and children. He was part of the purge of the savages, back in his early twenties. He remembers well the deaths of several different families during the purge, one in particular was at his hand alone.

After he made sergeant-at-arms, he was given a small plot of land. He left it in the care of his family, elevating their status, and taking himself off to adventuring. He hoped to one day bring many spoils home to them and retire from this life.

Skills:
He's excellent with bladed weapons, going for a standard loadout of a short sword and a round buckler. He's as proficient with a crossbow as anyone else. Normally you'll find him using anything as a weapon. Often he'll take damage, but because of his brashness, he tends to scare the more inexperienced attackers. He can sleep on almost any surface, and can sleep wearing all of his gear. He can drink more than what would kill a man and still operate. He often drinks himself under the table, but no one can drink him under the table.

Equipment: He carries a shortsword, a round buckler shield, and a light crossbow. He doesn't carry very many bolts for the crossbow. He has his armor, plate, and a rucksack, filled with the assortment of necessities for travel. He also has a pipe with tobacco and another more powerful leaf(which he has a good amount of).

The Wandering Gypsy

It was a quiet building, seemingly silent, as men-at-arms filled it. There weren't that many, only a platoon size, as they cleared room for room. It all seemed to be going right. Everyone was particularly on edge, after having shed so much blood in the streets of the city. If one were to look from the windows, they would see it burning. It gave off a crimson glow into the night sky, such that people would see it from miles away.

The men rushed from room to room, kicking the doors in, as the trudged down the hallway, marking their path by their sweat drops on the floor. Each entry was preceded by tension, followed by a release after finding almost every room they came across as empty as the last. They had to clear that building, no matter the resistance, as they were the vanguard for the entire army. More soldiers were filling the city, and there were fewer and fewer places for the enemy to hide. Still, they hadn't cleared everything.

Finally, they came to a new hallway. It was smoky, and difficult to see in. There was no light they had to guide them, other than what came from outside. They proceeded cautiously down the hallway, as per their instincts. It was all so quiet, and the air seemed stifling and suffocating. They could only hope to not suffer from asphyxiation.

Their movement was stopped by the sudden flicker of flames on the other end of the hallway, the man in charge, a mid-twenties sergeant-at-arms, known simply as Wade, held up a hand for everyone to stop and crouch. They all followed his lead, a slight rattle and rustle of their armor and clothes. Soon that small flicker was followed by flames engulfing the hallway and shooting towards them.

Wade slammed his body to the ground, some following suit, and others being engulfed and burned. Men screamed in agony at the kiss of the fire, as it scorched their bodies to an unrecognizable state of existence. Wade was blessed, as he kept his head to the ground, his eyes almost tearing up from the sound of his men being burned alive. The wave of flames had gone by quickly, and all that was left was recovery from it all.

Wade was quick to start firing back, with a crossbow in hand as he loosed bolt after bolt down the hallway. He heard the sickening sound of it connecting with flesh and the thud from hitting wood. He heard one scream from a bolt he sent down the hallway, and it seemed to enliven the entire building. Arrows began flying back at them, as they continued to send bolts down the hallway.

Wade, keeping low to the ground, made his way to a wall near a man screaming in pain. There was nothing he could do. Their healer was no where to be seen, the building was black. The only thing for certain was the exchange of bolts and arrows, and the agony of those whom had suffered from the fire wave.

Wade grabbed the man, and tried to move him to the other hallway, out of fire, but his gripped was soiled and he lost it. Wade's hands felt wet and gooey after having grabbed the man by the wrist and pulled, and the man himself was still crying out in agony. He had no idea what was on his hands, as he held it to his face and sniffed. The putrid smell of burnt flesh graced his senses, as he nearly wretched.

"FUCKIN' HELL, JUST FUCK IT!" He cried, grabbing the man by his sleeve and putting his arm over his shoulder. He began hauling the man back to the hallway they had come from, pressing both of them against the wall to avoid the arrows. As he got closer to the entry to the other hallway, he saw the flicker again as it seemed to light up the hallway. People were suddenly more animated than usual, moving in different directions. Wade began to move faster, as his instincts told him more trouble was coming. Soon he saw it.

The whole hallway began to light up and his shadow danced on the doorway in front of him. He moved faster and faster, dragging the burnt man along with him. His heart raced as he felt it coming closer towards them. Before he knew it, he was falling to the ground, as the flames came closer. He seemed to fall forever and ever, before all he saw was blackness.

He began blinking profusely, as he heard words being spoken to him, seeing a fuzzy image of the woman from before, the assassin, her name being something like Ramara or of that flavor of word. Soon he jolted awake, as he saw no one in front of him. He blinked and shook his head, before stretching and taking a look around. It wasn't much of a site, many people being missing.

His attention was soon diverted towards the sound of horse hooves, and he diverted his eyes towards it. There he saw the female assassin, Ramara, again. He picked himself up off the ground, all of his gear still on him, as he made his way towards her. Even though he wasn't fully conscious, he was at least aware of the question she had posed to him, intent upon leaving the prick of a paladin, the perverted jester, and the orc with the nightmarish face.

"Where'd you wantah go?" He said, speaking with a little bit of his own charm, which still sounded like something from a man of the countryside.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Hugh nodded at the thief's answer, a scowl still gracing his face. He didn't mean to scowl, it just stayed there after hearing what the man had to say of Sana a few moments ago. He simply vented his anger in fist clenching, drinking some of his coffee. He felt a little crack on the coffee mug, which he quickly set down.

The little conversation didn't last long, as Hugh had no response to the thief's words, only taking them and keeping them in mind. The thief had found more interest in conversing with a random stranger whom was wearing the same clothes as him, or something along those lines. The wizard appeared to have joined them and conversed with the thief, seemingly ignoring Hugh for the most part.

Hugh simply played with the cup, staring into the drink as reminiscence played through his mind. His mind drifted through the day and the past, reflecting on the trigger from earlier. His mind was a storm of thoughts and memories. He had no control as his mind went through darker places in his life.

The man's attention was quickly diverted by the sudden rise of the thief, as he headed off towards the window. It appeared to be from some commotion occurring outside, as Hugh followed suit. He walked up behind the wizard, taking his time. Though his eyes grew tired as he noted the crowd of rather ugly looking creatures and men, seemingly intent on causing trouble.

He groaned and headed back over to where he had left his coffee. He took the chain mail shirt and put it on, followed by his pauldrons. He didn't care whether or not they were going to fight him, he wasn't in the mood for getting stabbed again, as he was too tired for the work. He finished up his task with donning his weapons, his battleaxe slung across his back.

He strode outside, coming in after the others, as they seemingly lined the street in front of the inn, looking ready to take on this group of prolific miscreants. Hugh sighed and stared at the new group, feeling more tired than usual. "Y'all must be trippin'." He said, sounding like some inner city commoner.

His words were quickly followed by two hyenas, running straight towards him. "Mutha fucker-" His fist soon met the body of one of the hyenas, as both of them jumped at him. One hyena's teeth sunk into Hugh's armor on his shoulder, trying to bite through his chain mail armor. The other was soon lying on the ground on its back as Hugh stepped on it, crushing it underneath his weight. He held onto the other, squeezing it to his chest, hoping that it might break.

The one under his feet was screaming in its odd hyena way, as Hugh broke its ribcage with his weight. Hugh began the process of snuffing its life out, as he began jumping up and down, one hyena in his arms biting into his shoulder, and the other being crushed under his weight.

It wasn't long before he found the other one to stop screaming, giving him a little bit of a break to rip the one on his shoulder off. He started this process by quickly moving his hands up to the beast's jaws, getting a grip on each one and prying the beast from him. It had done its damage, as the pinch alone on his shoulder caused enough pain and bleeding. It would have been worse had the teeth been fully embedded into his skin, but that wasn't the case.

Soon, victory was his, as he ripped the beast from his shoulder, nearly breaking its jaws. He threw it to the ground and stepped on its neck, crushing its airway, before drawing his falchion and stabbing it into the beast's lungs. He repeated the process with the other one, before standing valiantly over the two creatures.

"Alright, who's next?" He said, the combination of a grimace and a grin on his face, as he used one hand to rub his wounded shoulder.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Hugh was completely unsure of why the men he had killed were suddenly mutilated, but he knew the memory it had caused him to relive. He knew it all too well.

His fear began to subside as he felt the soft hands of Sana bringing him closer to her. He felt relaxed, as he closed his eyes, exhausted from everything. The day had started out so good, but now it had gone so wrong with a simple vision and a bad dream. If he had known what Sana had done, before he had allowed the trigger to affect him, he would have been holding Sana and assuring her that everything would be alright. He would have gone off with her to the camp, but now he was stuck in the town, compromised physically and mentally. His body needed to fully heal. It was nice to have all of the damaged tissue repaired instantly, but the blood was always something he had to regain from rest and relaxtion..

He had lost too much blood, most of it bled out onto the ground or on his shirt, which was now wrapped around Sana's arm. He was now wearing his other shirt that Sana had brought him from Rodger's saddle bags. He was in desperate need of a few new shirts, but this would do for now.

He seemed to fully come back into reality when he felt the soft kiss of Sana, her smell entrancing him, and the taste of her leaving him with slightly extended lips. He looked stupid. Quite stupid.

The memories of how it was back when Hugh was young and stupid, and he had lost everything in one day, were drifting through his mind. He remembered crying like a child, screaming at the heavens, and swearing up and down about how they would pay for all of this. They would continue to pop up in his mind, pictures of everything that would cause him to shudder and shake it off.

Hugh was alerted by Sana to the whereabouts of his items that he had left in the room. Though he was confused why she had brought them down, as he was under the impression, from when they talked earlier, that they were heading out in the morning. He relented, however, and finally stood up. He shook himself off, and began collecting the strewn items, regardless of the plans.

Hugh was busy on this task, when he heard a familiar spark in Sana. That familiar spark that filled him with pride. He looked at her and gave a satisfied smile, looking like his usual self from her response to the thief.

Her words soon finished and Hugh went back to putting his gear on and collecting it. He wasn't intent on wearing it all. He just had his weapons attached and slung his chain mail and other clothing pieces over his shoulder. Soon his task was finished; finished in time to watch Sana head off with the others on a party somewhere to fight a personal war.

Hugh sighed, looking onwards, before heading inside the inn. He stopped and survived the room, looking through the smoky haze, before seeing a familiar face. It was the thief who had joined up with them. The one who could talk haughty and then lose all of his calm when a few bad men got killed. Hugh had caused much cruelty, but he had only done what he thought was necessary to survive.

He remembered acting like he was about to die and lose it all, and how he was sorry it had to be like this to Sana. He remembered her snapping on him for his cynicism and scaring her so much. He felt remorseful at the thought that he had done that to her. That he had been so stupid as to let the bandit get away and not finish him off, like he should have. He had dropped his guard too quickly.

Hugh walked over to the thief, dropping his gear at the feet of the bar stool. He was no longer wearing any of his gear, including his weapons, it all in a pile on the floor at his feet. He heaved himself over top of the stool, loudly seating himself. Giving a quick request to the host for a cup of coffee. He was considering drinking something far stronger, but decided to refrain for the moment, as his body recovering

Hugh didn't notice that the wizard known as Melvus showing up, until he heard Tobias mention the name of Sana. Hugh nearly snapped at the bad mouthing of her by Tobias, but restrained himself, simply taking to glaring at his cup. He shot a glare out of the corner of his eye towards Tobias at the mention of Big Brute Pally Hugh, not really certain how that name started. Finally, Hugh put his hand on the counter and turned to face Tobias, "What fucking demons?" He said, speaking loudly.

WITS' Wonderful Works of Wittiness

Stands at 6'5", and as muscled as Hugh Van Halder, only taller. His fur only extends to his waist.

Name: Gervas Hofler

Age: 65

Title/Alias/Nickname: Gervas the Damned

Race: Human

Class: Fighter, ex-paladin

Weapons: Crossbow, Arming Sword, and a Zweihander(he keeps the Zweihander on his mantle piece, and only takes it down for special occasions).

Armor: He wears a chain mail shirt. A chain mail coif. He wears plate pauldrons

Sometimes, he'll wear knee and calf protection, in the form of hard leather.
All of his armor will be covered with a fur that extends to his waist.

Skills: Very adept at swordmanship, from his simple arming sword, to his zweihander. He is most notable for his skill with a zweihander. He keeps the crossbow for killing pests, and is proficient with it at 50 yards(though, it's an easy weapon to master). He can fight with just about anything. He's a very skilled farmer and cook.

Personality: He is rather quick to dislike and very distrustful, but friendly towards those he knows and those he lets into his small circle of people. He likes the quiet, and tends to do things for others only when they benefit his own interests. He'll still take care of good friends whom pass through, but he mostly keeps to himself. He has a rather tentative relationship with his town, as they distrust him.

Possessions: He has a farm with a house, and all of the things needed to live and continue farming.

Other things about him: He has a wife and kids, whom he would do anything for. He smokes tobacco a lot.

Bio: Gervas was born to be a paladin. He accepted it, and trained hard from his youth onwards. He was never one to follow the conventional rules of being a paladin, and was particularly rebellious. Regardless, he became very good at fighting and killing. He's seen his share of warfare and killing. The order eventually made him a trainer.

Shortly before his order was under fire and scrutiny for scandal, Gervas left. He was quoted as saying, "I'm not a hero. I don't want to be here" the day before he left. When he left, he disappeared into the night, taking with him his armor, horse, and necessary weapons. With that, he abandoned being a paladin, and found a quaint little village to live and farm in. Eventually, he met a woman who became his world, and she bore children to him, and they continue to live happily and peacefully on his farm, if not for the neighbors bickering.

Gervas has faced many of his old enemies since leaving the order, having gained quite the reputation as a crusader and having angered many back in the day.

He became a mentor to his worst student, Hugh Van Halder, raising him up from when he first joined the order as a child.

Musical association/theme song:

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

As Sana pushed Hugh, he staggered and fell back, catching himself and planting himself in a sitting position. He thought it was smooth, but he realized that he fell because Sana pushed him and he was suffering from blood loss, so he didn't have very good balance in the first place. He seemed to bob back and forth, feeling the adrenaline wear off from the fight. He was so lost, he didn't even notice that the giant orc had sat down to keep an eye on him, until the orc said some orders to him.

Hugh nodded, looking a little dazed from the ordeal, as he rocked back and forth. He finally started looking around, noting the suddenly missing eye from the body in front of him and the missing arrow he had stabbed into its chest. "Huh." He grunted, not in a particularly caring mood. One thing was for sure, he was in a more weakened mental state from before. As soon as he regained his strength back, he might be a little more alert, and back to his former self.

He started playing with his curiosity a little more, looking from different body, to body, examining them. He soon came to the body of the one he had killed, only there was a new feature to this one. It had no head. In a moment of realization, he skittered backwards, crawling on his back. There was fear in his eyes as he stared at it, "All dead." He said in a more panic attacked whisper. He put one hand to his head, covering one eye, and holding a little of his own hair. His breathing was faster as he looked back at the headless corpse.

It had been so long since he had felt or seen any triggers for these flashes of memories of decades ago. A headless corpse wouldn't have triggered anything not too long ago. Now it brought back memories of when Hugh was much younger. More stupid and frightened, but now he felt like that young Hugh. The little 20 some years old paladin from the last battle. All of his friends had been crushed before his eyes, and when he came back to find them, their bodies were desecrated, defiled. Some of them were stripped naked and hung from posts. Some of them were headless, and their heads were stuck on spears.

Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale.

He felt like he was somewhere else, looking at all the different mangled bodies. He felt like he couldn't breath from the stress. His heart beat loudly, pounding in his ears, and he couldn't hear anyone. Before he knew it, everywhere he looked, he saw something from his past. Faces of friends he had lost passing before his eyes. He started mumbling different things, meaningless to anyone else, but to him, they were the memories. They were names and places of where he met them, and where they died.

It was a long list, as he covered his eyes with his hand, and kept going. It was comforting to him, somehow. He hadn't forgotten anything. He remembered everything. "I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough." He said, finally finishing the list. His face looked tired all of a sudden, as the trigger slowly subsided, and he came back to reality. He seemed more sullen than before, looking nearly exhausted.

It was no wonder why this memory was triggered and was so lucid. He didn't just remember the things about his family. He remembered everything that came before, that caused different struggles for him to deal with as he moved forward in his life. He felt tired, now. Not just tired from the moment. He felt tired from all that he had gone through. It seemed like every time he settled down, some kind of tragedy took everything from him and stole away any semblance of happiness he tried to have.

He just needed something to eat and drink, and he would be back to taking names and cracking skulls.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Hugh's angels? I need to go to chat.