Ah, is this death? Have you at last perished? How disappointing. You’d always thought you’d go out more… dramatically. Stabbed by a sharpened rock, really? You can’t help but chuckle at the thought. Can the dead laugh? It’s not as if it matters. Hey, maybe when Death comes to whisk you away, you’ll put up one last fight, a duel against fate. Now that’d be dramatic.
You cough violently, spewing a mixture of blood and bile. The pain in your abdomen returns. Strange. Hearing’s next. Laboured breathing, the sound of a man desperately struggling to hold onto life. He coughs and sputters, evacuating the contents of his stomach. Next is vision. Colors and flashing lights.
You pass out again. You think. It’s hard to tell. Were you even conscious just now?
It all comes back to you again. Er, probably. You see a hundred men standing before you, all kneeling. They’re wearing bright red capes, adorned with a symbol you haven’t seen before. It seems oddly familiar. Uh, wait a second.
Fade to black.
You’re talking to someone. You can’t make out the words. He glances away for a second and you wring his neck, crushing its muscles with your mind. Guards charge at you, wielding spears. You snap them in two effortlessly, embedding the bladed tips in to their chests, piercing through their pathetic armour and penetrating their hearts. They die in seconds.
Fade to black. Again.
Visual hallucinations now? Come on. You’re ready to die, hurry it up. Your contestations are met with searing pain. You scream, or gurgle, or something. You make some horrendous noise. Oh, you open your eyes and see nothing. Visual hallucinations seem to be over. You hear the sound of heavy breathing again, feel the warmth of blood soaking into your clothes.
You reach out, feeling the world around you, seeing things the only way you can. It’s different than before. Maybe you’re focused, or all that adrenalin is doing something to your head, but everything feels clearer. It’s not fuzzy or indistinct. You can make out every detail, every grain of wood on the oak desk, the individual etchings and marks worn into the polished ceramic floor from years of wear.
Oh, right. The stone. What of it? The pain’s still there, but you’ve managed to push it to the back of your mind. You can feel it, but when you go to search for it, you ‘see’ nothing. It’s as if it doesn’t exist. Is it even there? Ugh, no matter. You need to focus on stopping the bleeding. You ignore the whimpers from who you presume to be the receptionist. Trying to sit up, you only tear open the wound further, so you relax, letting your mind handle the bandaging. Tear, stitch, reattach. That was remarkably easy, though you’re still oozing blood.
The pain’s back now. How much blood have you lost? Difficult to keep track. You rest for a moment. The receptionist seems to be muttering something but you can barely make it out. He seems to have constructed a makeshift tourniquet and is trying to crawl away. You can barely stay conscious.
At this rate, you’ll die for real. How you’ve managed to hang on this long, you’re not sure. Blood continues to soak through your bandages. You’ve left the stone inside; you’ll bleed to death if you take it out. Your wounds aren’t going to heal themselves, either, and if you continue to lie here the receptionist might get to help before you can escape.
Maybe it would’ve been better if you died…
Status: You don't know. Bleeding wildly, you presume.
Abilities:
Inventory: You can't remember.
You have 1 skill point to distribute. Increased telekinetic skill focuses on minor movements rather than major. Manipulating individual strands of cloth, sewing shut wounds, affecting targets outside of your line of sight (including organs) all fall under this.
