I'll post tonight. I'll make it happen.
Wraithblade6 Member
Interrogator Chaplain
STATUS: I may not come back. It was nice playing with you all. I wish you all good lives. 6 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- Wraithblade6 12 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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I may not come back. It was nice playing with you all. I wish you all good lives.
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6 yrs ago
The fires of hell did not kill me.
9 yrs ago
No shoes no shirt and I still get service WHY?!
9 yrs ago
Too tired to post.
9 yrs ago
God told me, I've already got the life.....
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I'm planning to post.
will post tonight. sorry for holding tiny up.
Mithias thought he was dying. The knight's hand had closed onto his head, and now, death would come. The pain was about what he expected, limitless, mind-wiping, and yet he didn't run from it, didn't try to flee. He could bear anything, as long as he knew it was what had to be done, and so he let it happen. Gratefully, he gave into it, asking the burning light and order to come into him and exact its wrath, to burn away all it saw as evil and broken, even if that included his soul. He was no knight, no hero. Hell, Mithias wasn't even good. He had given in to vampirism, given in to despair, and fallen to chaos. Of course he should be destroyed. And so it was with a sense of justice that he surrendered to Valentus and the powers he represented. May the light be victorious.
Mithias didn't remember the next few moments. He kind of blacked out, only to awaken before the immobile suit of armor that bore Valentus' corpse in glorious pose. His first realization was that he was alive. No... he was alive! The long black hair that normally hung limp over his shoulders now felt soft against his skin. It was thicker, gentle, and with a slight wave to it. His skin was flawless, as usual, but now was warm, fleshtoned, and fuzzy. He looked in awe at his hands, now devoid of claws. He could feel every tremble of his heart, beating calmly and regularly inside his chest, while the inflation of his lungs gave satisfaction to a familiar and everpresent need to breathe. He was perfect in every way, beautiful, an Adonis. Although he still had fangs, and to his later discovery, yellow-eyes, he felt no thirst for blood. He was human.... and completely buck naked.
Mithias stood up, finding his legs to be strong and scanned around him for any immediate danger. Some blue pillar of light was going off nearby, but it felt warm and pleasant. The remains of the knight that had saved him drew his attention. A tear came to his eye, as he realized the being was deceased. He would never be able to thank him for what he had done, for the example he had set and the hope he had given. Mithias stood standing before it and asked of anyone, "Who was he? I must know his name."
Mithias didn't remember the next few moments. He kind of blacked out, only to awaken before the immobile suit of armor that bore Valentus' corpse in glorious pose. His first realization was that he was alive. No... he was alive! The long black hair that normally hung limp over his shoulders now felt soft against his skin. It was thicker, gentle, and with a slight wave to it. His skin was flawless, as usual, but now was warm, fleshtoned, and fuzzy. He looked in awe at his hands, now devoid of claws. He could feel every tremble of his heart, beating calmly and regularly inside his chest, while the inflation of his lungs gave satisfaction to a familiar and everpresent need to breathe. He was perfect in every way, beautiful, an Adonis. Although he still had fangs, and to his later discovery, yellow-eyes, he felt no thirst for blood. He was human.... and completely buck naked.
Mithias stood up, finding his legs to be strong and scanned around him for any immediate danger. Some blue pillar of light was going off nearby, but it felt warm and pleasant. The remains of the knight that had saved him drew his attention. A tear came to his eye, as he realized the being was deceased. He would never be able to thank him for what he had done, for the example he had set and the hope he had given. Mithias stood standing before it and asked of anyone, "Who was he? I must know his name."
Ok so... had to stay late at work tonight. super tired. I have tomorrow off so then I will write. Sorry to be such a dick. I owe a good post.
This is so Neverending Story.
I'll post tonight, or rather make a serious effort to.
I'll post tonight, or rather make a serious effort to.
Not a great post from me, but it will at least get things moving.
Thantos, you should put "Accepting new players" or "open" or something on our tread title.
Thantos, you should put "Accepting new players" or "open" or something on our tread title.
Sorry. Just a short post for the obvious.
@Thantos@The Grey Dust
Some shouts from outside easily awoke Mithias from his room in the Bannered Mare inn. In all actuality, he hadn't been sleeping, only biding his time in an effort to appear more human by his habits. Truth be told, Mithias hadn't been human in a number of weeks now, certainly months. He had been masquerading as a traveler since the day it happened, the first day he had craved blood.
For days, Mithias hadn't been feeling well. As much as he didn't want to return home empty-handed to his master, Reginald Harris the blacksmith, he wasn't going to be able to finish the trip. The small caravan of merchants he had been traveling with had to go on without him. Unexpectedly ill, too weak to sell wares, negotiate for materials, or physically deter thieves, he took the blacksmith's cart and split off, turning around to come home. It was night when he arrived. Alone, he put away the horse and locked up, assuring Master Harris that all was well before collapsing in bed himself. That was the night he died.
The next thing Mithias knew, he had killed everyone in his master's home, including dear Reginald, a man, who had been like a father to him. Blood on his hands, Mithias knew only then what had happened, that he had succumbed to vampirism. Distraught beyond belief and afraid, he fled, but not before taking his teacher's old swords. They were his now, dear reminders of his adopted family and what tragedy had befallen them. They would protect him, as his master would have wanted, not having any sons himself. Now would begin his search for answers.
Thence began his life as a vagabond, an innocent traveler with a dark secret. Mithias fed as much as he could get away with peacefully, but eventually, people began to suspect. He would always have to keep moving from town to town to stay ahead of suspicions. It had been months, but he had yet to find any shred of evidence of another vampire.
He found himself in Whiterun this night, and to his perception, the town was under attack by a pack of bandits. That was his first thought as he grabbed his swords and quickly left the inn before anyone else. He had better strength and speed than most of non-vampires, and with even his fresh knowledge of the twin swords techniques, he would surely be a great asset in turning back the invaders. Perhaps the rep with the locals would buy him more time, some gold reward, or even better some lovely lady visitors in the evenings. ...he was mostly interested in an easy meal.
And so he ran outside. The action seemed to be toward city gate on the main street. Guardsmen and able-bodied laymen were rushing this direction, not yet noticing Mithias coming forward to join them.
Some shouts from outside easily awoke Mithias from his room in the Bannered Mare inn. In all actuality, he hadn't been sleeping, only biding his time in an effort to appear more human by his habits. Truth be told, Mithias hadn't been human in a number of weeks now, certainly months. He had been masquerading as a traveler since the day it happened, the first day he had craved blood.
For days, Mithias hadn't been feeling well. As much as he didn't want to return home empty-handed to his master, Reginald Harris the blacksmith, he wasn't going to be able to finish the trip. The small caravan of merchants he had been traveling with had to go on without him. Unexpectedly ill, too weak to sell wares, negotiate for materials, or physically deter thieves, he took the blacksmith's cart and split off, turning around to come home. It was night when he arrived. Alone, he put away the horse and locked up, assuring Master Harris that all was well before collapsing in bed himself. That was the night he died.
The next thing Mithias knew, he had killed everyone in his master's home, including dear Reginald, a man, who had been like a father to him. Blood on his hands, Mithias knew only then what had happened, that he had succumbed to vampirism. Distraught beyond belief and afraid, he fled, but not before taking his teacher's old swords. They were his now, dear reminders of his adopted family and what tragedy had befallen them. They would protect him, as his master would have wanted, not having any sons himself. Now would begin his search for answers.
Thence began his life as a vagabond, an innocent traveler with a dark secret. Mithias fed as much as he could get away with peacefully, but eventually, people began to suspect. He would always have to keep moving from town to town to stay ahead of suspicions. It had been months, but he had yet to find any shred of evidence of another vampire.
He found himself in Whiterun this night, and to his perception, the town was under attack by a pack of bandits. That was his first thought as he grabbed his swords and quickly left the inn before anyone else. He had better strength and speed than most of non-vampires, and with even his fresh knowledge of the twin swords techniques, he would surely be a great asset in turning back the invaders. Perhaps the rep with the locals would buy him more time, some gold reward, or even better some lovely lady visitors in the evenings. ...he was mostly interested in an easy meal.
And so he ran outside. The action seemed to be toward city gate on the main street. Guardsmen and able-bodied laymen were rushing this direction, not yet noticing Mithias coming forward to join them.
Alright. I'm putting he Skyrim down. ... Time to work on a post.
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