Thread replies: 11
Thread images: 3
Thread images: 3
QM (ID: !!nUsJgA4OUNc)
Prophecy of Life: 1 2016-11-15 04:51:06 Post No. 830567
[Report] Image search: [Google]
Prophecy of Life: 1 2016-11-15 04:51:06 Post No. 830567
[Report] Image search: [Google]
File: grunwald.jpg (39KB, 450x236px) Image search:
[Google]
39KB, 450x236px
Untold feeling engulfs your entire body as the senses you never knew you had start flooding back in a blur, a mixture of delight and sorrow as your eyes open. The air is crisp against your bare skin, and your lungs fill with ice as you breathe in what you feel is your first breath.
Your ears ring with pain as a crow squawks loudly, the scream of the carrion bird vibrates against your ear. Moving your head and feeling the soreness of your body, you find yourself in a great grass field, colored a sickly greenish grey. Light bounces off the steel armor of a man you could only hope was a compatriot. A black lump pecks at the exposed skin peeking out from ruined sallet helmet.
You don't feel safe. Your muscles begin to contract. You can feel it. Your instincts scream to get out of here. Something is pulling at you. You roll over onto your stomach, all of your body screaming in agony.
Stop, stop, rest for a while.
But you don't listen. You put one hand in front of the other and pull, moving yourself across the wet grass, your body starting to freeze over.
You reach for your iron clad partner, your last hope and grab his arm, tugging on him, words unable to escape your dry lips.
Get up, help me.
You want to scream, shout, but nothing comes out except the croak of a dead man. You pull with all your might and heave the man of iron onto his back. The sight is revolting, you can't even describe it.
The man is clearly dead. But there is a ray of hope, something shining out like a beacon in your short dreadful existence. His sword sticks upright from the ground, you can grab if it... and you do.
Feeling returns faster and faster, your body damp and freezing, but you can feel all of it. With a mighty hand you grab the hilt of the iron crucifix and lift, lift with all your power and fail.
You try again, lift, but fail. You try again, begging that you were not abandoned in your time of need. You want to cry, cry that it's unfair, but you give it one last try, the try of an animal cornered without options.
Painfully you throw your limp body up, gathering a sole knee under your body. But it's enough. With fire pumping in your veins you shakily rise to bare feet, and the full carnage of what you piece together as a battlefield greets you...
You are reborn
>>
File: grunwald2.jpg (398KB, 1360x680px) Image search:
[Google]
398KB, 1360x680px
You rise in the middle of a grass field, surrounded by men, all dead, clothed in heraldry and armor you couldn't hope to understand. A gust of wind chills you to the bone as you examine your area.
You turn all around, soaking in the new information, the view, the smell, the sounds of men dying, all of it. To one side stands a proud grey banner with three large castles on it, near directly opposite it, further down the field sits a slightly less proud banner of a red feather.
You look up at the sun, which could just have passed its zenith, or perhaps it's approaching it, you don't know. You've had your fill of the sky and look down to the ground you stand on. The greenishgrey grass is surprisingly soft on your feet, but the ground itself is strewn with weapons of war.
Bows, spears, swords of all shapes and sizes, shields with sigils you can barely remember fill your head. Seems like all is still in this little place, soft hills roll off in the distance and you feel you could lose yourself in such a calm place. Your head moves to directly below you.
Your friend in that heavy looking steel armor lays on the ground below you, his face a black swollen mess. Swinging your head around and stumbling over yourself, you see a similar man, but dressed in all leather and furs, quite the warm looking furs as well.
Another gust chills you to the core, something inside of you is telling you that these used to be men, probably had families. But again, insticts are taking over and you need something to wear, your body feels weak as it is.
[1] loot the man in full armor, maybe he was important
[2] survival comes before chance, i need warm clothes and fast
>>
>>830780
>[2] survival comes before chance, i need warm clothes and fast
You really should have picked a better time for this, man. Your writing is pretty great but it's night in both Europe and America and it's a workday! How is anyone going to see this?
>>
>>830780
>[2] survival comes before chance, i need warm clothes and fast
It's important to get our bearings first before we go hunting for mad cash. Besides, if the armored fellow was important, it would be a bad idea to parade around with his things.
>>
File: grunwald3.jpg (244KB, 940x626px) Image search:
[Google]
244KB, 940x626px
>>830849
>>830841
pssh, crazed night time drowsy writing is the best because you don't get the luxury of foresight and you just write whatever. plenty of good things have started at night.
You stagger on over to the man in the warm coat of furs, fixated by the thickness of that coat, oh how warm you'll be.
Falling to your knees and praying you'll be able to get up, you roll over the man in the leather and begin to undo the buttons, feebly. Your hands are slow and clumsy, but after painstaking minutes that feel like hours of cold you manage to undress him and wrap yourself in an undercoat, a thin fur jacket, a leather jerkin and another thicker coat of furs strapped to the leather jerkin.
You finish looting the man who you pray was an enemy and not a friend. You find yourself with a long arming sword you don't know how to use, a quite comfy and warm leather/fur outfit, and a kettle helmet.
You strap this all on and get up, savoring every moment of new strength you find yourself with. You move your arms back and forth, twist around, examining how it fits on you. Surprisingly well, you think to yourself, your somber face breaking into a warm smile as you realize you won't freeze to death. But you might starve, anyway.
A pang of hunger rips through your gut and nearly forces you to your knees. All that work, for naught if you die out here like some forgotten animal or a poor servant. The pains in your stomach are an alarm bell to you now,
Food food!
You have now idea how to hunt, your best bet would be to scavenge for whatever is left in rucksacks and pockets, which might take some time, or you could try your hand at hunting.
[1] i looted these clothes, i can loot food
[2] maybe i can catch a rabbit, or a bird.
calling it quits for the night, sorry for being such a tease but god i'm tired.
>>
>>830893'Night, QM.
>[1] i looted these clothes, i can loot food
We can find our own food when we're not about to die.
>>
>>830893
[1] i looted these clothes, i can loot food
I hope to see you active again soon.
>>
>>830893
>[1] i looted these clothes, i can loot food
>>
>>832972
Nice
>>
>>830893
[1]
Thread posts: 11
Thread images: 3
Thread images: 3