A breath burned into his lungs like molten fire. It seemed to sear into his very soul, scorching through him in an instant and running along every fiber of his being.
Bright blue eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a breath, fingers scrunching in the dirt, head spinning, skin on fire. A pained gasp escaped him, as if the air he'd just drawn in were forced out in a single powerful push. Agony poured through the very depths of him, flaking through every muscle, tendon, bone. It was as if the whole of him had been cast down onto the earth.
Flashes of memories pulled through his mind.
Sprays of blood, cut flesh, searing hurt.
He could remember his head being bashed against a shield. Could remember the arrow buried in his thigh. Could remember as a serrated sword stabbed through his armor and buried itself within his gullet. His hands shot to his belly, grasping, feeling at the torn livery and finding only a hole in his armor...but none through his belly.
"Wha-" His throat burned as he spoke, a groan cutting his words off as he slowly rolled onto his side and seized his eyes shut. Every time he moved utter agony curled through him.
Seething breaths flowed through him, Ashyr gathering enough strength to pull himself together. His body seemed to shake, twist, and then the pain turned to throbbing aches. He could not have said how long he lay there for, how long he writhed in the dirt, but by the time his eyes opened once more all he could hear was the chirping of moon crickets.
Slowly he shifted.
His head rose, blue eyes flickering over the clearing around him.
As he looked about, he saw what he had feared. A dozen corpses lay strewn about the small clearing of road, each of them dressed in the Livery of the Greywatch Templar. A cart sat in their midst, it's left wheel smashed, and the strong box that had occupied it's back missing. What happened?
He thought in quiet panic.
Bright blue eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a breath, fingers scrunching in the dirt, head spinning, skin on fire. A pained gasp escaped him, as if the air he'd just drawn in were forced out in a single powerful push. Agony poured through the very depths of him, flaking through every muscle, tendon, bone. It was as if the whole of him had been cast down onto the earth.
Flashes of memories pulled through his mind.
Sprays of blood, cut flesh, searing hurt.
He could remember his head being bashed against a shield. Could remember the arrow buried in his thigh. Could remember as a serrated sword stabbed through his armor and buried itself within his gullet. His hands shot to his belly, grasping, feeling at the torn livery and finding only a hole in his armor...but none through his belly.
"Wha-" His throat burned as he spoke, a groan cutting his words off as he slowly rolled onto his side and seized his eyes shut. Every time he moved utter agony curled through him.
Seething breaths flowed through him, Ashyr gathering enough strength to pull himself together. His body seemed to shake, twist, and then the pain turned to throbbing aches. He could not have said how long he lay there for, how long he writhed in the dirt, but by the time his eyes opened once more all he could hear was the chirping of moon crickets.
Slowly he shifted.
His head rose, blue eyes flickering over the clearing around him.
As he looked about, he saw what he had feared. A dozen corpses lay strewn about the small clearing of road, each of them dressed in the Livery of the Greywatch Templar. A cart sat in their midst, it's left wheel smashed, and the strong box that had occupied it's back missing. What happened?
He thought in quiet panic.