01-03-2016, 04:58 AM
(01-03-2016, 04:13 AM)Umbra Wrote:(01-03-2016, 12:43 AM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: //I am not sure it would be. But if you wish it. Alright. Was offering to add connections.
// Well, the intent was for it to be in a medieval world not linked to the Eden's portal hub.
// The 'demon' in question is also Umbra... in case it wasn't obvious enough. But, more importantly, it was Umbra before he became a spatial anomaly.
// (I would have elaborated more in the thing, but I kind of hit a block and just closed it up there... The Umbra part, anyway)
// Point being if someone had saved him from that, either the Nexus 17 Umbra would cease to exist or I'd have to find a different way to kill him.
//Not if you died anyways. There are many ways about things. But as I said. As you wish. I simply await the chance to interact. And until such a time comes. Will continue solo.
Nothing but the wind, rising smoke beyond trees. He still walked, off the beaten path... There were no paths anywhere near his place. Solitude aside. He moved, hopefully, towards the rising smoke of a distant villa. He couldn't muster the strength to lift his head. And a sudden pain at the center of his back. With a heavy force that almost pushed him to his front outright. He fell to his knees, forced to release Sandrise to the ground as he grasped wildly at his back with his left arm. He coughed; more fresh blood splashed across the grass. He grasped at the dagger, burried into his back, and pulled it out, it had been driven in only slightly off center or else he'd have been done for in that instant. He reeled on his side, blood starting to stain the back of his robe. But it was slow, thick blood. He heard footsteps. He almost started crying in lost hope. He thought little of his ability to react. He couldn't do anything. His body was too worn out after everything that had gone on. He rolled to his side. Looking up at the dark specter who he so had feared. He wanted to bury himself into the ground at the sight of this grizzled shape. Pristine unquenchable hate. And a glimmer of familiarity at the back of his head. But no memories attacked. Just... Odd familiarity. They stepped over him, as if to pass by, as they went for Sandrise rather than to finish him off. He lifted his hand up, as the dagger buried itself into their ankle. Forwards they fell as Sandrise Skirted a bit away with a slow drag. He found himself on top of them, swinging wildly at them. They rolled over, and kicked him off, where he lay. He couldn't get up again. And the impact of a boot to his face stopped his struggle completely...