Private Tales Open Wounds

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas

First Sword of The Order
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It didn't quite feel like falling...

...there was nothing underfoot but there was no where to fall from, nowhere to fall to...

...but it was not quite weightlessness either with the constant reeling and jeering through nothing but black that spun his stomach...

Riding now, hard through dark woods with pale skies where clouds of black began to gather. He heard the panicked thoughts of his brethren around him - uncertain, fearful...

The darkened valley, once a glory to behold was ravaged by malevolent decimation. The city, burned, and the tower lay ruined.


..his heart sank low...

...dark again, spinning once more...

...laughing softly echoing, and playful yelps cried out his name...

The same valley, still full of light and life. On the fringe, tall antlers perked up to see him, and a moment was shared - a quiet understanding. It turned and leisurely departed, its young prancing along behind. He turned back to his own, dancing and singing through the misty grove.

...black again... softer now...

...the horrid, distant lament of his own anguished sobs...

...a terrible scream...

The sound of steel rang out over angered shouts and the anguished terror of death. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and it soaked and stained the earth. A desperate fight... so close to home... his blood stained hands... her lifeless body in held in them...

..."where is my Mother, Father?"...

...I couldn't...save her...

Through the darkened valley now, into the sacred city and they saw them...unimaginable... their own people, turned ghostly white, remade into ravenous blood-thirsty wraiths... they fed on them, those who returned... brothers against one another, but brothers no longer...a city soaked in blood and burned with hate.

...her broken beauty...

...her lifeless eyes...


He stirred, and his eyes slowly opened. It was cold. With the midnight wind of the Spine cutting through the covered wagon he found himself shivering. His eyes darted toward his precious cargo: dear friends. Still nicely bundled. Their rest far superseded his as far as he was concerned. A battle well fought. Besides... he didn't much care for the rest now. He pulled his dark cloak tighter to him.

He rest his head back against the wall. As his head began to roll, and his conciousness started slip tears welled his eyes. It wasn't from the pain that plagued his body, and hindered his every breath...

...he didn't want to dream anymore...

..he didn't want to see her...