Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5824038-20150620140931/@comment-5583506-20150625215441

(Music )

She felt a cold flake of snow land on her cheek. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up into a thick sheet of light grey glouds slowly rolling over her head, heading for an unknown horizon she was unable to see. A burning pain was aching throughout her lower abdomen. What had happened?

''I... I remember. I think...'' she thought as she slowly rose up.

The snowy ground she found herself lying on was soft and coated in red. Her own blood... and lots of it... The lower chestpiece of her black armor had suffered a mighty blow from a sharp speartip which had penetrated the plating completely and skewered her like a wild boar. She remembered that her last thoughts before dying had been directed towards the beauty of the clear night sky. Whom the killing blow had been delivered from, she couldn't recall.

''Bandits, perhaps? ''she reflected.

It was of little relevance. She had died so many times that the identity of the man or the woman behind the actual act of killing her was unimportant. She gasped out as she felt the pain sting again as she sat up, cluthing her armored hand to her stomach and heaved herself onto the hilt of her giant cleaver in order to stand. The armor had suffered a rupture, but it would repair itself in time. She remembered that much, but not the reason for its strange enchantment, nor its origin.

As she stood up, she slowly panned around the area. Judging by the footprints in the snow, surrounding the place where her body had fallen, she reckoned that it had been at least eight or nine culprits behind her death.

''Far too many... No surprise I died once more...''

Some more blood pooled out of the gap in her armor. The wound would also heal in time. The Gods were indeed cruel beings who didn't want to see their favourite ragdoll succumb to her wounds. No matter how severely injured she was, she always seemed to end up patched together anew. She had vague memories of having limbs chopped off and even having been decapitated four or five times. But none of it mattered, because as soon as she died, there was nothing... Just an impenetrable darkness... and then light... And she awoke again as if she had just been having a bad dream. She couldn't help but wonder sometimes what it looked like when her body was healed from such grave injuries as she had been through. Although there seemed to be some wounds that were apparently harder to heal than others. On her right breast she still bore the scar of some sort of dagger. On the back of her neck she carried a visible sign of someone who had run her spine through with either a spear or a very thin sword. On the area just above her womanhood she carried the wide mark of a double-edged axe, indicating that someone had even managed to literally cleave her in two. She had no idea how the Gods were unable to fully heal those wounds, but then again she didn't really care about it. All she cared about was finding the peace she had deserved for all too long... yet had no idea of how to obtain it.

And no matter how well the Gods pieced her back together, they were unable to do the same to her consciousness. Some of her memories and experiences all disappeared for each time she died, though she was still carrying some fragments of them with her. She remembered having married and having at least two daughters, yet she couldn't remember their names... even their faces had escaped her... as well as the fact whether they were still alive or since long dead. Just thinking of it filled her with some form of sadness... at least she believed it was. She no longer really remembered what it felt like to cry over things lost.

She surveiled her surroundings some more. She was standing on the outcropping of some high mountain, overlooking misty valleys below her. The snow was slowly falling down around her. Flakes of white landed on the black armor and melted from the vague heat it generated. The grey, looming sky, seemed to stretch for miles with no end in sight. It was completely quiet. Such a tranquility she had never known, save for the stillness only her deaths could bring her, yet she wanted the peace to be permanent, which it never was. It was an everlasting storm, ripping her from her much desired end only to throw her back into a world plunged in its own chaotic nature and have her killed again and again just to tease her with the true paradise she would never reach... and then the process would repeat. Presumably until the End Times...

She let out a sigh and started to head down the rocky slopes of the mountain pass.

Skyrim, she thought. I must be in Skyrim...