At first it was just a smell. Rot. A wound not properly dressed will fester. Then the fevers come. A dark madness overwhelms and you’re only just lucid enough to know you’ll soon go mad.
What a way to die.
Second came the feeling. Like your insides being moved about. Warm blood sluiced down her ribs. She could feel her insides emptying, pooling on the soft grass. A damp pitter-patter of blood. This only punctuated the first step. Rot.
Lastly came the sound. Something like a peeling. The sound of a gutted fish being sliced down its middle. The snapping of catgut as her wound tore open like a maw. A bloody rictus grin.
She had found the encampment. A single fire burned itself into oblivion. Three small field tents encircled the fire. Not a sound came from the camp. All she could hear was a hideous cackle. Her cackle? Or was it the dulcet warble of a bird? A slight wind darting through the treeline to her left? No, I hear snoring. The camp is asleep.
Am I already mad?
Crawling on her belly, leaving a wide swath of her own dark blood behind, she came to the first tent. Someone was asleep inside. This was her prey. Prey she’d been stalking for five days. Prey she swore to kill before her wound killed her. She carefully opened the flap and labored her way inside.
The man was sleeping on his back. As a youngling she had always wondered what happened if you died in your dreams. But what about dying while dreaming? She placed a hand over the man’s mouth. He shot awake. Terror filled eyes implored her. The man started to struggle. Kicking. A muffled scream. He knew this was his last moment alive. What a terrifying thought.
Her dagger snicked awake. The man began to struggle more, but she had him pinned. She was leaking blood all over him. Sweat from the beginnings of a fever cascaded down her hair falling into the man’s eyes. She took her dagger into a reverse grip and placed the cold iron to the man’s neck. He began to piss and voided his bowels adding to the putrid smell in the dark, cramped tent.
She rarely played with her prey. Perhaps it was the fever. Perhaps she’d enjoyed this too much. As slowly as a winter snowflake floating to earth she dragged her sharpened iron across the man’s neck. Sudden realization came to the man’s eyes. A slight gurgle like that of a brook meandering down a valley and dashing itself against the free stones.
The man shuddered and fought for whatever remained of his life. It was no use. The stale air and cramped quarters of the tent held the smell of death in tight. Killing was never pretty.
One down.
Two to go.
Looking for a medium sized PVP/PVE hybrid that RPs as well. I know ED is in a weird place right now, but I can’t see it staying like that forever. ED never dies. Been around on this server since its inception under a different name. Trying something new out. Hit me up.