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dragonsorcsandwolvesRob had used the stone couches in the castle dozens of times without incident. This time, however, instead of ending the teleportation sitting on another stone couch he found himself appearing in mid-air and immediately falling. He frantically reached for the rough stone wall next to him but found nothing to grab hold of.
Is this how I'm gonna die?
There was a sudden moment of searing pain and he lost consciousness.
Rob didn't have time to be confused before his awareness was flooded with pain. His fingertips, right arm, right leg, and right hip were all on fire, and darkness began to invade the edges of his vision the moment he tried to move his right arm and leg. He could only assume that they were both broken.
The words and mental state required to cast Heal Litany eluded him through the pain and the effort required nearly made him pass out again. Situations like this were why he carried healing potions. He plunged his left hand into his satchel of holding, where his skinned fingers immediately encountered one of his potions of Restore Health. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and quaffed the bottle's contents.
The potion didn't have much effect on the amount of pain Rob was in, but it was enough to let him start to think again. He pulled the Reflecting Mirror from his satchel and aimed it at himself. The mirror normally reflected only bone, regardless of any flesh in the way, and confirmed that his arm, leg, and hip were all broken. He cringed inwardly at the knowledge that he would have to set them before receiving any more healing.
Five losses of consciousness later and with tears of pain pouring down his face, Rob downed another healing potion and attempted to cast Heal Litany again. The result was like hitting a mental brick wall; the world itself seemed to object to the spell being cast. His next attempt succeeded, but the effort left him so drained that he couldn't muster up the strength for another try. It was like the Bastion all over again, except that the Bastion hadn't felt as hostile to magic as his current location did.
Breathing heavily and clenching his teeth, he forced himself to sit up and look around.
The pit he was in was at least 30 feet deep and a hundred feet across, cut into the bedrock below the soil layer. Pools of stagnant water filled various depressions, water stains drawing Rob's gaze to several round openings that could only be the ends of pipes just below the lip of the pit. His gaze continued upward to the sky: light gray with near-black and sickly-yellow clouds.
He downed a third healing potion, followed by a Restore Stamina potion, and slowly forced himself to his feet. The spell and potions had repaired the critical damage, but what was left was still painful. More healing would have been useful, but his supply of potions was finite and he didn't want to use them all up in one go.
Rob examined the walls of the pit until he found a spot with likely-looking handholds and began his climbing attempt. He had to clench his teeth almost immediately from the pain of putting pressure on his skinned fingertips. The next several minutes were filled with agony and a brutal demonstration of his need for more upper body strength, finally ending with him sprawling on dry grass with tears of pain streaming down his face. Conserving his potions didn't seem so important anymore in the face of this pain, so he downed two more and clenched his teeth as he watched the skin on his fingertips regenerate.
Once the pain had receded to a dull ache in the background, Rob became aware of details of the grass that he had initially overlooked; the grass was dry, but not merely the dry of grass in a drought. At the slightest touch it crumbled to dust, leaving behind gray streaks on his body and clothes. Frowning in confusion, he climbed to his feet, brushed off as much of the dust - no, ash - as he could, and looked around. He felt a tightness in his chest and throat and had to take a step to keep from falling over.
The pit had been a small park just outside of downtown, the same park that he'd been walking past that day several months ago when he'd first arrived in the Bastion's world, park in tow. The city's downtown core was visible from where he stood, the same familiar sight that he'd once seen nearly every week on his walk to the game store where he and his fellow gamers had gathered. Normally he could have heard the sounds of traffic from here; now it was silent, without so much as a breeze to be heard.
He suddenly realized that he was running, his feet having resumed the actions that had been interrupted that Saturday morning while his mind was still reeling from a shock he hadn't begun to process yet. The first intersection went by in a blur and he ran past cars stopped at a dead traffic light. Ahead of him a gray man stood motionless in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the sky with an expression of terror on his face. Rob brushed past him and the man collapsed into ash from the contact.
The main street running through downtown was a mess of crumpled vehicles filled with the ashen remains of their occupants. Rob wove through the remains on his way to the game store. Intellectually he already knew exactly what he was going to find, but desperate hope kept his legs moving despite every muscle in his body screaming that he couldn't keep up this pace any longer.
He didn't remember opening the door to the game store, nor did he know how long he'd been standing in the open doorway before his consciousness reasserted itself and began processing what he was seeing: a familiar room filled with ash statues of familiar people. He knew what was going to happen next, but he couldn't stop himself from closing the door and heading back the way he'd come.
The walk was a blur. Mechanically, he put one foot in front of another and navigated around obstacles in his path. Out of habit he looked both ways before he crossed each street, but if a car had been coming he wouldn't have noticed it. With every step he forgot the previous three and wondered how he had traveled so far already when it felt like he'd been at the store only moments before.
He stood on the front porch of the house and wondered how he'd gotten there. Hadn't he just been setting off to patrol the castle? He was filled with a sense of unreality about the situation he now found himself in. Here he was, standing at his front door dressed like a barbarian warrior and somehow not having his house key on him. He'd never forgotten his house key before. This was completely unlike him.
With a sudden burst of purpose Rob pulled his fist back and drove it through the window in the door, the shards of glass leaving scratches on his armored gauntlets. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
His mother was sitting on the couch in the living room, a book still held in her ashen hands. Rob staggered down the hall to the dining room, and then to the kitchen, where he found his sister preserved in the act of making tea. He turned around and headed back into the hall. His legs began to shake and he slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor.
Rob stared blankly at the imperfections in the paint on the opposite wall. The hope he'd held onto since the day he'd arrived in the Bastion was gone. In its place there was no sadness or despair, just emptiness.
He was home.
Is this how I'm gonna die?
There was a sudden moment of searing pain and he lost consciousness.
Rob didn't have time to be confused before his awareness was flooded with pain. His fingertips, right arm, right leg, and right hip were all on fire, and darkness began to invade the edges of his vision the moment he tried to move his right arm and leg. He could only assume that they were both broken.
The words and mental state required to cast Heal Litany eluded him through the pain and the effort required nearly made him pass out again. Situations like this were why he carried healing potions. He plunged his left hand into his satchel of holding, where his skinned fingers immediately encountered one of his potions of Restore Health. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and quaffed the bottle's contents.
The potion didn't have much effect on the amount of pain Rob was in, but it was enough to let him start to think again. He pulled the Reflecting Mirror from his satchel and aimed it at himself. The mirror normally reflected only bone, regardless of any flesh in the way, and confirmed that his arm, leg, and hip were all broken. He cringed inwardly at the knowledge that he would have to set them before receiving any more healing.
Five losses of consciousness later and with tears of pain pouring down his face, Rob downed another healing potion and attempted to cast Heal Litany again. The result was like hitting a mental brick wall; the world itself seemed to object to the spell being cast. His next attempt succeeded, but the effort left him so drained that he couldn't muster up the strength for another try. It was like the Bastion all over again, except that the Bastion hadn't felt as hostile to magic as his current location did.
Breathing heavily and clenching his teeth, he forced himself to sit up and look around.
The pit he was in was at least 30 feet deep and a hundred feet across, cut into the bedrock below the soil layer. Pools of stagnant water filled various depressions, water stains drawing Rob's gaze to several round openings that could only be the ends of pipes just below the lip of the pit. His gaze continued upward to the sky: light gray with near-black and sickly-yellow clouds.
He downed a third healing potion, followed by a Restore Stamina potion, and slowly forced himself to his feet. The spell and potions had repaired the critical damage, but what was left was still painful. More healing would have been useful, but his supply of potions was finite and he didn't want to use them all up in one go.
Rob examined the walls of the pit until he found a spot with likely-looking handholds and began his climbing attempt. He had to clench his teeth almost immediately from the pain of putting pressure on his skinned fingertips. The next several minutes were filled with agony and a brutal demonstration of his need for more upper body strength, finally ending with him sprawling on dry grass with tears of pain streaming down his face. Conserving his potions didn't seem so important anymore in the face of this pain, so he downed two more and clenched his teeth as he watched the skin on his fingertips regenerate.
Once the pain had receded to a dull ache in the background, Rob became aware of details of the grass that he had initially overlooked; the grass was dry, but not merely the dry of grass in a drought. At the slightest touch it crumbled to dust, leaving behind gray streaks on his body and clothes. Frowning in confusion, he climbed to his feet, brushed off as much of the dust - no, ash - as he could, and looked around. He felt a tightness in his chest and throat and had to take a step to keep from falling over.
The pit had been a small park just outside of downtown, the same park that he'd been walking past that day several months ago when he'd first arrived in the Bastion's world, park in tow. The city's downtown core was visible from where he stood, the same familiar sight that he'd once seen nearly every week on his walk to the game store where he and his fellow gamers had gathered. Normally he could have heard the sounds of traffic from here; now it was silent, without so much as a breeze to be heard.
He suddenly realized that he was running, his feet having resumed the actions that had been interrupted that Saturday morning while his mind was still reeling from a shock he hadn't begun to process yet. The first intersection went by in a blur and he ran past cars stopped at a dead traffic light. Ahead of him a gray man stood motionless in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the sky with an expression of terror on his face. Rob brushed past him and the man collapsed into ash from the contact.
The main street running through downtown was a mess of crumpled vehicles filled with the ashen remains of their occupants. Rob wove through the remains on his way to the game store. Intellectually he already knew exactly what he was going to find, but desperate hope kept his legs moving despite every muscle in his body screaming that he couldn't keep up this pace any longer.
He didn't remember opening the door to the game store, nor did he know how long he'd been standing in the open doorway before his consciousness reasserted itself and began processing what he was seeing: a familiar room filled with ash statues of familiar people. He knew what was going to happen next, but he couldn't stop himself from closing the door and heading back the way he'd come.
The walk was a blur. Mechanically, he put one foot in front of another and navigated around obstacles in his path. Out of habit he looked both ways before he crossed each street, but if a car had been coming he wouldn't have noticed it. With every step he forgot the previous three and wondered how he had traveled so far already when it felt like he'd been at the store only moments before.
He stood on the front porch of the house and wondered how he'd gotten there. Hadn't he just been setting off to patrol the castle? He was filled with a sense of unreality about the situation he now found himself in. Here he was, standing at his front door dressed like a barbarian warrior and somehow not having his house key on him. He'd never forgotten his house key before. This was completely unlike him.
With a sudden burst of purpose Rob pulled his fist back and drove it through the window in the door, the shards of glass leaving scratches on his armored gauntlets. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
His mother was sitting on the couch in the living room, a book still held in her ashen hands. Rob staggered down the hall to the dining room, and then to the kitchen, where he found his sister preserved in the act of making tea. He turned around and headed back into the hall. His legs began to shake and he slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor.
Rob stared blankly at the imperfections in the paint on the opposite wall. The hope he'd held onto since the day he'd arrived in the Bastion was gone. In its place there was no sadness or despair, just emptiness.
He was home.
