A. Though he tried to work through the odd migraines that had started bothering him, the owner of the antique store had eventually noticed, and insisted that Trahearne take some sick leave. By that point, he was in no state to argue.
The sleeping supplement he took in his tea every night was no longer working, and he couldn't be sure if the migraines had anything to do with it. He tried to downplay his condition, not wanting to worry his roommates, but he was so tired. Bone tired, in a way he hadn't been since he first arrived in Aifaran and had only been able to get snatches of sleep between the nightmares that plagued him. The nightmares that had never stopped, only been smothered by artificial means.
He wound up at an outdoor table near the Dreaming Bridge, a book in front of him as part of an effort to take in some fresh air and do something relaxing. Instead, Trahearne found that he couldn't concentrate. The words were swimming in front of him, and he only closed his eyes for what seemed like a moment - but when he opened them again, he wasn't alone.
A horde of Risen surrounded him, decaying zombies that brought with them the stench of rot combined with seawater. Though they represented a variety of races, many of them sported colonies of dead coral, muted splashes of color against grey skin and the red-brown of shriveling internal organs. Trahearne shouted wordlessly in alarm, scrambling up on the table as the Risen scrambled closer, reaching out for him.
"Destroy," one grated out, other Risen adding in gurgles and groaned words of their own, "No escape!" "Die, die!"
B. As his sickness progresses, Trahearne became more and more disoriented. He's no longer easy to find, having left the Dreaming Bridge in favor of wandering the city's streets. Like when the Dreaming was dredging up the Dreamfolk's memories, Trahearne knows in his moments of clarity that he's a danger to others. But those moments are further and further between. Now he's so sleep-deprived and Dreaming-Sick that half the time he's asleep on his feet, and that's always when the worst of it happens.
Like now. Trahearne doesn't know where he is. When he snaps out of his haze, he's in the middle of a road between low, squat buildings - warehouses, he thinks. The salt on the breeze might be his imagination, so he's not sure he can trust it. Something still seems wrong. Even in the midday sun, the shadows are too dark, stretching towards him like... like vines!
They are vines, dull green and studded with thorns half as long as his arm. Trahearne turns and starts to run for it, but he's unsteady on his feet and doesn't make it very far before he stumbles and falls, the vines slamming into the ground around him. He starts to push himself up on one arm, but stops abruptly when he sees the looming form ahead. It's a Mordrem - plant-based and humanoid in shape, but hulking and monstrous as opposed to the slim, more human-resembling sylvari. This one has grown bark so thick it could easily serve as armor plating, orange eyes glowing with fury.
"Did you think you could escape us? In life or death, you WILL serve the jungle dragon!"
tw zombies/body horror
Though he tried to work through the odd migraines that had started bothering him, the owner of the antique store had eventually noticed, and insisted that Trahearne take some sick leave. By that point, he was in no state to argue.
The sleeping supplement he took in his tea every night was no longer working, and he couldn't be sure if the migraines had anything to do with it. He tried to downplay his condition, not wanting to worry his roommates, but he was so tired. Bone tired, in a way he hadn't been since he first arrived in Aifaran and had only been able to get snatches of sleep between the nightmares that plagued him. The nightmares that had never stopped, only been smothered by artificial means.
He wound up at an outdoor table near the Dreaming Bridge, a book in front of him as part of an effort to take in some fresh air and do something relaxing. Instead, Trahearne found that he couldn't concentrate. The words were swimming in front of him, and he only closed his eyes for what seemed like a moment - but when he opened them again, he wasn't alone.
A horde of Risen surrounded him, decaying zombies that brought with them the stench of rot combined with seawater. Though they represented a variety of races, many of them sported colonies of dead coral, muted splashes of color against grey skin and the red-brown of shriveling internal organs. Trahearne shouted wordlessly in alarm, scrambling up on the table as the Risen scrambled closer, reaching out for him.
"Destroy," one grated out, other Risen adding in gurgles and groaned words of their own, "No escape!" "Die, die!"
B.
As his sickness progresses, Trahearne became more and more disoriented. He's no longer easy to find, having left the Dreaming Bridge in favor of wandering the city's streets. Like when the Dreaming was dredging up the Dreamfolk's memories, Trahearne knows in his moments of clarity that he's a danger to others. But those moments are further and further between. Now he's so sleep-deprived and Dreaming-Sick that half the time he's asleep on his feet, and that's always when the worst of it happens.
Like now. Trahearne doesn't know where he is. When he snaps out of his haze, he's in the middle of a road between low, squat buildings - warehouses, he thinks. The salt on the breeze might be his imagination, so he's not sure he can trust it. Something still seems wrong. Even in the midday sun, the shadows are too dark, stretching towards him like... like vines!
They are vines, dull green and studded with thorns half as long as his arm. Trahearne turns and starts to run for it, but he's unsteady on his feet and doesn't make it very far before he stumbles and falls, the vines slamming into the ground around him. He starts to push himself up on one arm, but stops abruptly when he sees the looming form ahead. It's a Mordrem - plant-based and humanoid in shape, but hulking and monstrous as opposed to the slim, more human-resembling sylvari. This one has grown bark so thick it could easily serve as armor plating, orange eyes glowing with fury.
"Did you think you could escape us? In life or death, you WILL serve the jungle dragon!"
C. Wildcard