Jun 19, 2018

Of daggers and a broken mind.

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There are many races scattered throughout these lands, a few in which I have personally encountered. Elves, orcs, Fae, and the most common, humans. There are even those that can't be seen under normal circumstances. Spirits, demons, and sometimes even our truest selves.

There are three of them sitting around a fire, staring at a map as they speak to each other in their foreign tongue. Dark Elves. I was travelling to meet sir Ceannric when I happened upon them in this thicket of woods. I could have ignored them and just kept moving but something they have has caught my eye. They glint against the fire and I can't help but want them for myself. A pair of daggers, finely shaped like sharp feathers plucked from a swallow made of steel. I've lingered long enough for them to spot me but they are busy with their own discussion. Ive heard tales of how fearsome Dark elves are. They are fast, agile, and extremely skilled with bow and sword. They have no fear for the denizens of the darkness, but that doesn't mean they aren't aware of me. I will still make an attempt towards the daggers.

Inches away from the light I pause and wait. I have to be patient and wait for the fire to die down before I move any closer. Their vision will be obstructed by the shifting patterns of light. As I crawl torward the light of the fire, my vision darkens and a burning pain enters my skull. I sieze up and bite my fist to the point where i taste blood. The visions tear through my thoughts. A castle in the distance, a large crowd cheering down at us, the smell of blood in the air, desperation, and finally the despair.

After a moment I am able to open my eyes to the light of a blood red dawn. I'm not where I was moments prior. I find myself sitting against a tree in the the fields outside the forest I was passing through. I shake my head to a throbbing headache i bring my hands up to wipe the sweat off of my brow when the crimson color catches my eyes. Blood. Wet and glistening, it covers my hands and runs down my arms. The blood has only started to dry so it hasn't been long since I've been covered. The fact that im covered in blood doesnt unsettle me, in fact I can only feel a sense of calm as I sit here staring at my crimson coated hands. I slowly set my hands back down to my sides and touch the cold, wet metal of the daggers that I was hoping weren't there. I let out a long sigh as I relax and wait for the throbbing to end.

This has happened to me several times before. First the headaches, then everything goes dark, and I always find myself somewhere other than where I was. I've never found blood on myself in any of those situations. Only recently have I come close to shedding blood. It was during the end of my match with Grayson when I woke up. Grayson was on his knees, defeated, as I was raising my sword but I stopped myself before swinging it towards his exposed neck.

I shiver at the thought of killing a friend and shake the memory away. I need to wash myself before I present myself to Sir Ceannric. I've decided to keep quiet about these incidents until we gather again in the coming weeks. I'll have to find a magic user to help me. Each day I go without help, the more danger I'm putting my comrades in. I don't want to harm any of them.

I gather up my new weapons and struggle to stand as every movement makes the throbbing worse. I start heading towards the rising sun to find the nearest source of water, turning my back on the woods and away from what remains of the elves.

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