The Dreamer

The cold breeze blew upon the exposed skin of the man as he kneeled looking down at the frozen lake below the cliff. A passerby would have found the scene quite odd as the man had cast his clothing to the side and stood fully nude as if the cold did not bother him. He stood entranced at the frozen lake nearly forty feet below him. A voice had been calling out softly to him and he had fallowed it to this very spot and he did not intend upon leaving until he found the creator of such an angelic voice.

He stood staring into his own reflection gleaming off of the iced waters as if it was a mirror and behind him stood a beautiful blond woman. He was sure this was the woman that was calling his name but every time he turned to greet her she was not there. He knew what he must do to find her but he felt fearful of what would be to come of him if he so chose to do so. The voice however continued to call out his name and finally closing his eyes he made his choice. He leaped from the cliff’s side toward the iced water below him closing his eyes and preparing for impact. The ice broke apart allowing his body access into the waters depths. The water was colder then the air around him when he had stood upon the cliff and immediately he began to regret the decision he made. He attempted to swim back up for air and escape from the frozen waters however to his surprise the ice had sealed back up just as it had broken apart and he was now trapped in its depths. He became frantic at first attempting to break the ice with his fists. However a sense of hopelessness soon gripped him and he began to accept he would die in the water. Just then, the voice began to call his name out once again and he turned round expecting to see the beautiful woman he had seen in his reflection. However this was not the case as when he turned around it was not the angelic image of the blonde woman; instead, a rotted corpse had taken her place. It reached out for him and he screamed allowing his lungs to fill with the icy water. He began to choke on the water in his lungs and his site began to grow dim.

“There he is!!” came a cry awaking Morte from his dream. He would have thanked them had he not noticed the weapons in their hands and the hatred in their eyes. He knew the group of people was probably the local farmers attempting to capture him for the bounty upon his head.

At first it seemed he would surely be captured as he was surrounded at all sides by pitchforks and spears but the group became distracted when they noticed a woman who had been robbed of her clothes was hanging by the neck in the very tree Morte was sleeping.

Morte was slightly shocked at first by the image to but he then realized this could also be explained by the five empty bottles of ale beside him and the horrid headache he had achieved.

Grabbing his clothes beside him he used his shoulders to push two of the more distracted farmers out of the way and began to make his escape from them. Noticing this, the farmers screamed and took of after him.

He had made good time in his escape to his more secret and underground hideout and suspected they would not be able to find him due to its cleverly disguised door. He began to search the ground for the broken twig and once finding it pulled on it to open the hatch to his hideout. The villagers were not to far away as he could now hear their screams so he shut the hatch and walked over to his bed lighting the lamp beside it.

“Look here!” shouted a man to the group. From the direction of the voice they were right above his hideout.

“Damn,” he said to himself realizing he had left his clothing sitting right beside the hatch.

Just then the hatch swung open and another man from the group shouted loudly “Down here!!”

Fearing his demise Morte did the only thing in his power that could stop the group from furthering into his location. He grabbed the lit oil lamp and threw it at the first person to descend down the ladder.

Morte then realized the stupidity in his action when the flaming oil splattered around burning anything and everything in its reach.

He was now given the ability to decide whether he wanted to burn alive or be stabbed brutally by a group of farmers.

“Farmers sound more survivable,” said Morte to himself running towards the burning ladder.

The burning oil stuck to his flesh as he climbed and soon nearly his entire body was covered in the flames. He let out a violent roar as the flames reached his left eye and burned away his vision. He was lucky to some extent as the farmers were so frightened by his flaming body and ran away screaming witch.

Morte attempted to extinguish the flames by rolling on the ground but he gained no relief until the rain droplets began to hit his face.

He lay prostrate on the ground letting the cool rain drizzled on his scorched flesh. He could only see out of his left eye and he new his wounds would surely kill him if he did not find assistance immediately.

The pain was too much for him to walk to a doctor and all the nearby doctors already knew him as a murderer. Feeling that there was no hope he began to let himself drift.

As the world began to blacken around him he saw a face look down upon him with a smile. The same beautiful face he had seen before in his reflection in his dream.

He wanted to reach out but the pain would not allow him.
“It is not your time,” spoke the woman.

He smiled and the world around him began to grow dim.

~End!~


1. I know it is poorly written but deprived of sleep I had nothing better to do.
2. This will be my character in SoS2. I decided I will write a few stories about the character that will lead up to his role in the RP.

Yeah, it is poorly written.

First, you're naked. Then, a corpse is naked but you're clothed. It makes me thing you killed her and put on her clothes, which would be a dress.


Killing a woman and putting on her dress seems awkward, but you're drunk/hungover.

x.X!? Naw! I see now I wasn't descriptive enough that the part in the snow was entirely a dream. Morte is a wanted mass murderer and was awaken by a group of angry farmers who wanted to obtain his bounty. They were initially shocked however by the fact that a lass from their village was hanging in the tree and during their momentary awe he grabbed his belonging (which he left by accident beside the hatch to his hideout) and made his escape.

If you name your character Morte, I will have you killed off.

Pest's jester is named Poliloko(Po-li-lok-o). I named him Pokey for short.

Havoc names every single one of his GW characters Morte.

It makes my brain angry.

Well Cassandre is a girl's name!

Nuh uh! It's an Egyptian guy's name! Wiki it.

Kuh-sonn-dur

OH.

Well speel it that way than! nub!

Also, are there still fantasy races in your next RP? the story doesn't seem to make it clear and I want to make full use of my dark elf rogue who had one post in your last rp before I lost interest.

Humans = The most populous. Very racist, for the most part.

Elves = Their happy forest land was burned and defecated upon. Elves are highly unpopular, and are often killed on sight. Best to hide those pointy ears of yours.

Dwarves= Tolerated, due to their elite craftsmanship. Either way, they prefer to live in the mountains.

Orcs = Very few still inhabit Nobenos, due to a "social-cleansing" perpetrated fifty years ago by a king who wasn't particularly fond of Orcs. However, that king is long dead, and Orcs are tolerated again. Nonetheless, many chose not to return. They now inhabit the Southern Isles.

Ogres = Almost extinct. The few remaining are in captivity. Due to selective breeding and gene manipulation, they no longer resemble their recent ancestors. A picture will be posted.

Messers, Ein Messers, and Grosse Messers = Extinct.

Jzekkomors = A special type of human from the eastern islands. Two centuries past, they inexplicably began to appear among normal humans. Twenty years ago, they banded together and drove every other race on the islands to extinction. They are named after the first of their kind, Jzekkomor. Little else is known about them.

Nabbers and Uess Nabbers = Extinct.

Sylvari = Only one ever existed. She was born from parents who loved Guild Wars. The Sylvari are now extinct.

Vampires = They have been defeated and subjugated by the humans. They reside in death camps along the sunny western coast. Surprisingy, vampires taste rather good, and people like to eat them. Very few remain free. They're the powerful or smart ones.

Zanbatir = Half human, half elf. Magically adept, and physically strong. They are tolerated by the crown, due to their human ancestry. However, a large proportion of the common-people fail to agree. In order to ensure their safety, a small colony of Zanbatir was established in the south. They live their lives as warrior monks.

Jiouth Goubouthos = Half human, half dwarf. They inherited dwarven muscle, and human tallness. As a result, they are powerful warriors, feared by all.

Syath Goubouthos = Half human, half dwarf. They inherited dwarven shortness, and human weakness. Simply put, they are midgets. They do not command a lot of respect.

The Dark Ones = Little is known about them. They are thought to be ghosts.



I will continue the list later. I have some business to take care of at the moment.

Can I be a Zanbatir Jester for the royal family?

Most certainly~