Re: Epilogue Journey: The Hero and Awakening
I should not feel this well.
No, seriously, I shouldn't.
Let's have a run-down of the last few days of my life. The train I was on was destroyed, and myself and several others nearly got lynched by the passengers until barbarian hordes started attacking as well. Yes, barbarian hordes. I wish I was joking. And that was just the start, really. ShapeShifter Town was destroyed by the aforementioned barbarians, who were supported by a race of mysterious mechanical spiders, and though I got away I also managed to get a buncha my ribs cracked in doing so.
Then our escape-pod crashed.
See what I'm getting at here?
It was then that I got the pleasure of waking up to the Angel I called a leader, a friend and a comrade for nearly two decades going postal on all our asses and flinging me about the forest like a ragdoll. Someone did manage to stop him eventually, but I was feeling pretty rough around the time we got drugged and kidnapped by a bunch of fucking emo-kids. Which, admitedly, we did manage to escape from, but still.
Then someone suggested we all take a lovely road-trip to Insanity.
And muggins here got to go with them.
So, we got to Insanity to be threatened by wolves and vampires, and then the same fucking Angel drops out of the woodwork and hurls me around like a ragdoll. Again.
So that's why I shouldn't be feeling this good right now. My ribs should be grating against one another. I should still have a dislocated shoulder. And I really shouldn't feel like I've just had a damn good sleep. Yet never-the-less, I feel good. Really, really good. The best I've felt in days, in fact. Which only serves to confuse me more.
And I don't think I'm lying in the dirt in Insanity anymore, somehow. The ground isn't metal there, last I checked.
Opening my eyes, I find myself slumped against a crate in what appears to be some sort of cargo hold. I can see some of the others lying around in various stages of consciousness or unconsciousness, as well, which is reassuring, and the pistol tucked into my holster is a reassuring weight, too. Pushing myself to my feet, something which takes a lot less effort than it should for me, I look around at the others.
"So I think I blacked out after Asmodeus came back from round two. Someone fancy filling me in on what happened after? And where we are now?"
THE HARBINGER, MAIN HOLD
I should not feel this well.
No, seriously, I shouldn't.
Let's have a run-down of the last few days of my life. The train I was on was destroyed, and myself and several others nearly got lynched by the passengers until barbarian hordes started attacking as well. Yes, barbarian hordes. I wish I was joking. And that was just the start, really. ShapeShifter Town was destroyed by the aforementioned barbarians, who were supported by a race of mysterious mechanical spiders, and though I got away I also managed to get a buncha my ribs cracked in doing so.
Then our escape-pod crashed.
See what I'm getting at here?
It was then that I got the pleasure of waking up to the Angel I called a leader, a friend and a comrade for nearly two decades going postal on all our asses and flinging me about the forest like a ragdoll. Someone did manage to stop him eventually, but I was feeling pretty rough around the time we got drugged and kidnapped by a bunch of fucking emo-kids. Which, admitedly, we did manage to escape from, but still.
Then someone suggested we all take a lovely road-trip to Insanity.
And muggins here got to go with them.
So, we got to Insanity to be threatened by wolves and vampires, and then the same fucking Angel drops out of the woodwork and hurls me around like a ragdoll. Again.
So that's why I shouldn't be feeling this good right now. My ribs should be grating against one another. I should still have a dislocated shoulder. And I really shouldn't feel like I've just had a damn good sleep. Yet never-the-less, I feel good. Really, really good. The best I've felt in days, in fact. Which only serves to confuse me more.
And I don't think I'm lying in the dirt in Insanity anymore, somehow. The ground isn't metal there, last I checked.
Opening my eyes, I find myself slumped against a crate in what appears to be some sort of cargo hold. I can see some of the others lying around in various stages of consciousness or unconsciousness, as well, which is reassuring, and the pistol tucked into my holster is a reassuring weight, too. Pushing myself to my feet, something which takes a lot less effort than it should for me, I look around at the others.
"So I think I blacked out after Asmodeus came back from round two. Someone fancy filling me in on what happened after? And where we are now?"
Grant thinks back over the last few day's events, confused as to why his injuries have been healed so quickly. He then asks the people in the hold in general what happened after he was knocked out by Asmodeus.