OOC: This is Mordrael's final thoughts as he slips into death. Thank you to everyone who facilitated Roleplay with the character, it was all unfathomably fantastic. Here's some music as well: (Take your pick either work IMO) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ What was that? What is this? . . . . . . I remember. Whenever my brother stripped me of my flesh. When he filled me with metal. I remember it so vividly, the feeling of breath. It was weak but I could taste the cool breeze. I could feel the cool breeze. Then it became laborsome, painful. Like something was in the way, and I have no control. No say. It is this or death so I endure. “Move your hand.” I hear commanded calmly. And I did. I see my hand move up, I see a fist clenched in front of my face, I know what it should feel like to press my digits into my palm. Yet, I feel nothing. All I feel is the jagged sensation of cold steel pressing into my insides. I feel a heartbeat that is no longer mine. I feel machines to replace lungs. I feel a tank in my stomach designed to feed me for all eternity. I feel pain. … “RAAAGH!” I had never had the ability to scream so loud before. And yet the situation demanded it. As I swung a fist for the face of a man I did not know. And I see it collide with his chin, followed by a spray of red. The murky mud of the pit was stained with similar crimson. Old and new splatters littering the floors and walls of this pit I found myself in. One by one, I see new faces I do not know, enter the ring, and leave it bloody. But there is my blood too. I know it hurts. I can feel it. I am alive. I needed to stay alive. So I kept sending opponents away. Until one knocked me down, and I felt for the first time since before I was metal that I could not move my hand. … “Mordrael - what’re you doin’?” Sempronia. My first friend. My family. I recall originally I was quite crude to her. But it was all I knew, my brother always seemed to believe all that mattered was improving. Becoming stronger. So I must help Sempronia do that, I thought. She is too reliant on me, I thought. So I abandoned her, which I thought was for her betterment. When I came back she was worse, her own mother turning her gold, like my brother turned me metal. She needed me more, and I was gone. … I forgot what it felt like to be alive at this point. I was lost. I wanted purpose and had none. I fought again. I figured it would be like before, a new face I did not know, stained red and sent away. It was like that for the beginning. And then the next day, a new face I did not know. But I was knocked down once again. I got back up and fought again, for the same result. Day in, day out. Ichor dripping constantly, I can think of nothing else, I must fight. If I do not fight I am not alive. My fists become stained with red, my vision stained with red, and I cannot see. It is unrelenting. I fight. I lose. I am alive. I fight. I lose. I am alive. I fight. I lose. I survive. I fight. I lose. Am I alive? I fight. I lose. I scream. … I am sitting there, on a hill. It is a star filled night, with not a cloud to be seen. It is serene. It is peaceful. “The knights of old were told by Ailwen …” Your voice I can barely hear it. I can feel your hand upon my head. I feel the cool breeze on my cheeks. Yes. I feel it. I am alive. Can I stay here, a short while longer? …
