Difference between revisions of "Temp"

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(Created page with 'Buried as you were within the elaborate network of chambers that make up Aziria's Paper Palace, you did not notice the seasons or the days pass. Was it a year, was it two? It mat…')
 
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=IC=
 
Buried as you were within the elaborate network of chambers that make up Aziria's Paper Palace, you did not notice the seasons or the days pass. Was it a year, was it two? It matters little, for the last memory you have from before this time was a hundred, perhaps two, perhaps many more, years ago; the moment of your death. And that time in the Palace passed slowly, as if in a dream. You still hardly feel as if you have woken, in fact, until now.
 
Buried as you were within the elaborate network of chambers that make up Aziria's Paper Palace, you did not notice the seasons or the days pass. Was it a year, was it two? It matters little, for the last memory you have from before this time was a hundred, perhaps two, perhaps many more, years ago; the moment of your death. And that time in the Palace passed slowly, as if in a dream. You still hardly feel as if you have woken, in fact, until now.
  
Now you feel the thrill of the fight, your blood is rushing in expectation and finally, on this chill morning, you feel alive.
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Now you feel the thrill of the fight, your blood is rushing in expectation and finally, on this chill spring morning, you feel alive. Finally, as your enemy advances with menacing war cries through the trees, it seems this body that Queen Aziria gave you is alive. Though no heart beats in your chest, your blood pulses around your body. Your body is as you remember it from your last life, in ts prime. Yet your faculties are not what they once were. It will take time, and memories, for you to be once again the hero you were.
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During those long days, it was Aziria's companion Barkit, an ancient man with the bearing of a prince, who taught you to speak again, who helped you grow accustomed to your body. Although he defers to Aziria in all matters, in his eye can be seen the glint of a man who once was something. What he is now, though, is a man who carries more years in his face than any you have seen before. That he still breathes is a miracle, or else the product of sorcery.
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When you finally met Aziria, beautiful yet obscene, you learned her purpose is reviving you. You learned that she had sent her agents out to collect what remained of some of the greatest heroes ever to walk the earth. By some magics unexplained, she restored you to life to serve her, to go out into the world and act for her. She showed you also how she intended to hold you to her purpose. She took you to a dungeon, deep beneath the Palace, and there ushered you into a sty. A handful of pigs fed there and bickered with one another for room. In each of the animals was one of your hearts.
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A demonic grin plastered on her taught face, she showed how, with but squeeze of a finger she could reduce each of you to unspeakable agony. This she did in turn, to bring each of you to her knees in turn. And this was the last you saw of her.
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~o0o~
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=OOC=

Revision as of 12:16, 18 August 2010

IC

Buried as you were within the elaborate network of chambers that make up Aziria's Paper Palace, you did not notice the seasons or the days pass. Was it a year, was it two? It matters little, for the last memory you have from before this time was a hundred, perhaps two, perhaps many more, years ago; the moment of your death. And that time in the Palace passed slowly, as if in a dream. You still hardly feel as if you have woken, in fact, until now.

Now you feel the thrill of the fight, your blood is rushing in expectation and finally, on this chill spring morning, you feel alive. Finally, as your enemy advances with menacing war cries through the trees, it seems this body that Queen Aziria gave you is alive. Though no heart beats in your chest, your blood pulses around your body. Your body is as you remember it from your last life, in ts prime. Yet your faculties are not what they once were. It will take time, and memories, for you to be once again the hero you were.

During those long days, it was Aziria's companion Barkit, an ancient man with the bearing of a prince, who taught you to speak again, who helped you grow accustomed to your body. Although he defers to Aziria in all matters, in his eye can be seen the glint of a man who once was something. What he is now, though, is a man who carries more years in his face than any you have seen before. That he still breathes is a miracle, or else the product of sorcery.

When you finally met Aziria, beautiful yet obscene, you learned her purpose is reviving you. You learned that she had sent her agents out to collect what remained of some of the greatest heroes ever to walk the earth. By some magics unexplained, she restored you to life to serve her, to go out into the world and act for her. She showed you also how she intended to hold you to her purpose. She took you to a dungeon, deep beneath the Palace, and there ushered you into a sty. A handful of pigs fed there and bickered with one another for room. In each of the animals was one of your hearts.

A demonic grin plastered on her taught face, she showed how, with but squeeze of a finger she could reduce each of you to unspeakable agony. This she did in turn, to bring each of you to her knees in turn. And this was the last you saw of her.

~o0o~


OOC