(My inner nerd has been itching to do this for the past few hours, it's pretty much my feelings after grinding in the same place for the past few days.)
It feels like weeks since I've seen the light of day...my body is bruised and scarred for the rest of my life. I can see the scars from all the bullets I've taken from the damned souls of the soldiers that were once here, tracing my fingers over them triggers a pain that feels as if someone took a hot spike and drove it deep into my wound.??If it wasn't for my strict and grueling daily training as a monk I would have been dead in the first few hours in this hell hole. Normally I wouldn't normally would be in such a desolate place but the Lord of the castle personally asked me to rid his home of phantom that's been plaguing him and his family.These hollowed halls are devoid of all life...I feel these walls wearing away my sanity. Now as I sit here in the corner, recovering from just laying waste to twelve soldiers at once, I find myself questioning the real reason why I was here. Is it because the Lord asked me? Fame? Money? Perhaps because I wished to further my own discipline of the body and mind...or perhaps somewhere in the far corner of my mind I crave for abuse.
Laying here now...it's been hours since I destroyed those twelve damned souls and my body is still recovering, the girls that had once been employed as handmaidens had their virtue stripped from them by demons and are now possessed; too far corrupted for salvation. They crowd around me, smiling at me with those wicked, twisted smiles; waiting for me to perish so they could taint my soul and use my body as a new vassal for some demon.
On the verge of death, I began to regret many things in my life...why didn't I do this and that. Was forsakening my youth and devoting years of my life to the ways of the Monk really worth it? Right when I was about to give up on life...a familiar flame sparked. I arose to my feet and took a deep breathe, remembering my only solace in this bleak place; my goal. "Where is that damned card..."
(Depending on the response I might do more.
)
"And be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real." Hannibal Lecter -- Red Dragon