You settled down in the corner of the shack after double checking that you had secured the door and window as best you were able. You knew now that there were things out there, things that should not be and you were damned if you were letting them disturb your sleep. If anything, you knew that a good nights sleep was something you enjoyed. You were a simple man in some ways, liking a good meal with a drink, a good nights rest and...
And...
You yawned, you could continue this mental monologue later you figured, as you pulled the sacks up over yourself, huddling in the corner as you listened to the sound of the nearby river lapping at its banks, as you listened to the sound of dogs howling in the distance...
Your eyes closed as you yawned once more, as you drifted off to sleep, exausted from a day of hard work and fighting. If you never saw another one of those vultures, it would be too soon, but deep down...
Deep down, you knew that you'd be seeing more of them soon.
Sleep yeilded a number of dreams this night, the first of them being almost like a memory as you found yourself hiking through a forest, a backpack full of supplies resting upon your shoulders and a good pair of boots on your feet. You could feel cool, crisp air as you breathed in, smell the scent of wild garlic, listened to bird song. There was the scent of water too, marking a nearby river, stream, brook. You didn't care what it was truth be told, as you had a canteen full of water from a mountain spring's source you'd recently visited.
A mountain...
Yes, you were still on that mountain, hiking down after reaching the summit, your supplies were half empty and your spirits high, as you had felt atop the world, gazing out over the surrounding landscape as you saw sleepy little villages dotted along the banks of the river that stretched into the distance, winding lazily overt the horizon.
You were well travelled, you had seen the world. You had slept under the night sky in many different countries, though you didn't know what country this one was off hand yet. As you continued downward, following the winding path through the forest you came to a rope bridge over a crack in the mountain, a deep gully with a stream winding through it.
You knew something bad was about to happen, but you couldn't stop yourself as you continued onward over the rope bridge, not noticing that the old rope was about to give until it was too late. The rope frayed, snapped, casting you over the side as the bridge bucked, one hand grabbing onto it as you nimbly grabbed the ropes before you fell.
Only, the handhold you took was the same old rope, that failed you as it gave way in your hand.
With a snap, and a wrenching sensation in the pit of your stomach you had fallen two, maybe three hundred feet into this gully, landing with a sickening thud against solid stone. By all means you shouldn't have survived, though from an outside perspective now you could see yourself, writhing as you cried in pain, horribly injured, but far from dead.
As the dream faded out, giving way to another you couldn't help but feel that vivid as it was, you had just relived a forgotten memory.
The next dream had you open your eyes to that battle field again, devoid of anything apart from you and that woman, that woman that had waited expectantly for you to return to slay her. Seeing your eyes open she smiled brightly, holding a knife out to you this time as she waited for you to strike her down.
"Kill me and your anxiety dies with me." She whispered, though you merely shook your head, shoving her aside as you climbed to your feet, rolling your neck as you looked out over the grassy plains. Grassy plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. "You'll never escape, if you do not. It's your curse."
You turned, glaring at the woman as you took the knife, eliciting a brief look of joy from her, a look that was quickly replaced by dissapointment as you flung the knife away, turning back to her as you grabbed her by the pristine white collar of the top beneath her armour, hauling her to her feet as you stood face to face. "I will not kill you. I am not that man." You yelled, feeling anger welling up within you, burning and misplaced anger.
"You're sore over that memory, aren't you... Over the fall from the bridge, a fall you couldn't possibly have avoided as you did everything in your power to prevent it. The entire bridge gave way, rope snapping beneath your touch, and then... And then you fell, the great one laid low by a simple bridge, as he took injuries that would kill a lesser man. It took you two months to recover from those injuries. You may have the potential to live until the stars burn out, but you're still fragile." Her taunting words had you recoil, before you turned, letting go of her collar as you started to run.
And you ran...
And ran...
Through featureless green plains stretching on as far as the eye could see.
As those plains faded from green to brown, you found yourself dreaming once more of that small, rat like man, stood where he had been last time as he let out a chittering giggle, as horrible sound that no man should have been able to make, shuffling closer towards you as he edged towards your paralyzed form, mouth opening as rows of crooked, jagged fangs were exposed, a long tongue licking over his lips as he gazed at your neck...
As you struggled in vain to move an inch...
And then with a scream, you burst into life, into action as you swung your arm wildly, with fear induced strength as a splintering sound filled your ears, as you panted heavily, your hand aching as it dawned on you that you had awoken, that mornings light was peeking through the curtains that covered the window.
And your hand was half embedded in the old, rotten dresser that you had used to hold the curtain in place.
You slowly pulled your hand free of the dresser, wincing as you rubbed at it. You'd drawn blood, but you'd broken nothing. Pulling yourself to your feet, you cast off the sacks that you'd slept beneath, taking a moment to breathe in deeply, to compose yourself.
You decided to turn up late to work, you wanted a bloody pistol on your person as soon as possible. Red would understand, no doubt, and you'd work harder to make up for it. Though, you didn't know how you could possibly work harder than you already had.
You froze as you opened the shacks door, seeing an eye had been daubed on on it in what appeared to be blood at some point in the night. You weren't familiar with the symbol, but you knew one thing. This was a warning, a threat, a mark of some kind.
Right...
Pistol...
You glanced one way then the other as you stepped out of the shack, the night you had just been through leaving you feeling less certain of yourself than before, your prior sense of joy at freedom slowly being turned to dread. No man scared you, but this...
This was clearly more than just some man. This was a threat in a city gone crazy, a place with abominations that stalked the night. You were a thousand years old and it wasn't chance that an abandoned shack would be singled out like this, that someone or something would mark the place you and you alone slept in.
While this had changed the manner in what you carried yourself today, people gave you a wide berth none the less as you strode down the streets past them on the way to the markets. You felt like you would beat any man that got in your way within an inch of his life and it showed. There was fire in your eyes, you had been singled out and you weren't going to stand for it.
The market was busy, filled with the hustle and bustle of the city, people coming and going, buying and selling. It was also home to pickpockets and thieves, conartists and thugs. None dared pick your pocket, as the very crowd parted, sounds of muffled suprise escaping as people bumped into each other in their hurry to get out of your way.
You, that strange man covered in cuts, bruises and splattered with blood.
You were fast to locate a stall with a man selling all manner of weapons, touting them to you as the only sure means you had of protecting yourself at night, and how any weapon larger than a knife or a pistol was something you'd need a permit to carry. Of course, the 'knives' he had pushed the borders of legality with their size, but it wasn't the knives you wanted. You didn't want some barbaric machette to arm yourself with, you wanted a pistol, the weapon of a duelist, a gentleman, but you'd be damned if you were paying full price for one.
A look over his wares indicated that there were several pistols that you could afford with a little haggling, the question was, what one did you have your eye on?
A revolver with 'one previous owner', A plain but powerful looking single shot dueling pistol, or a small derringer pistol with four barrels.
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Topic: They told me I could be anything... (Read 79216 times)