I had a D&D character die while offscreen after leaving the party. I am not a writer, but I wanted to close the book on the character so to speak. This is that attempt.
* * *
Ihsan’s almond skin shimmered with a light perspiration as he slowed his pace under the smoke-choked sky. His pointed ears registered the laboured breathing of his running partner falling behind even with the distraction of mentally composing a letter to his wife. There was something else as well. A rustling sound between them in spite of the sparse vegetation after years of the hellbreach slowly baking the region with its sulfurous heat. A small bow sprung from Ihsan’s bracer into his gloved hand as he pivoted on the spot attempting to identify the sound.
“Is this when you finally strike, mole?” asked the man between breaths. He might have been blond. It has been more than a month since anyone out here had the luxury to get properly clean. The man’s face already red from exertion deepened in anger. Blue eyes sparked to life as he pulled a wide sword of impure iron from his waist. The man stomped toward Ihsan. The dark blade failed to reflect much light when he raised it.
“Hush” came Ihsan’s monosyllabic response. Ihsan’s tone was subtle. The corners of his mouth pulled wide as he spoke. His tongue was flat. Ihsan’s voice did not sound natural to anyone in Vernas. This included himself. It had changed without his permission during his year on this primitive continent.
Ihsan’s eyes continued to dart around the area. The Scandian had at least ten seconds before he reached Ihsan. Longer if he was smart about his approach.
“You might kill me, but I won’t go quietly!” the man said as he used what strength remained within him to initiate a plodding sprint. Metal wires burst from the ground directly in the Scandian’s path. Their barbs dug deep into his leg. Ihsan saw a flash of bone through the spray of blood. The scent of copper and iron penetrated his senses briefly through the sulfur. The Scandian tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword as he collided hard with the parched earth.
Ihsan sprung forward pulling a dagger to cut his partner loose before promptly stowing it in favor of the bow. This earned him a glare from the Scandian as Ihsan continued to scan the ground. “Worm?” Ihsan asked in the screaming man’s direction.
Spittle flew from the man’s mouth. The Scandian, unable to leverage his thick blade to cut the deviltwine said, “Cut me free! I can fight!”
Three holes cracked open in the ground to Ihsan’s left with another two on his right. Ihsan let an arrow fly as a sliver of flesh poked out of one of the holes. As soon as the arrow was loose he pulled his dagger again and tossed it to his partner.
Another opening split the surface. Some sort of mammals Ihsan was unfamiliar with climbed out. Their rounded bodies were slightly larger than rabbits. Tendrils of metal danced at discordant rhythms from their noses. Their eyes were fused over with a metal plating that spread up over the top of their tiny heads. Thin spikes protruded from their spines. Gnawed grayish pink flesh showed through patches of gray or brown fur. Their oversized paddles in place of paws reminded Ihsan of makeshift shovels. Well, he was in Corrisbank after all. A land where the only things to be found in abundance are poverty, fire, and shovels even when there was not an invasion from the hells taking place.
The creatures churned the ground with their metal whiskers causing clumps of dirt to burst into rolling clouds. Ihsan let loose with another arrow where he thought one of the creatures might move to. There was no response from where the arrow should have hit. Ihsan was instead greeted by the whine of metal wires rubbing together accompanied by the renewed screams of the Scandian. The shrieks of metal continued as the Scandian’s own were cut off. Ihsan shot in the direction of his former partner before running and leaving the body behind.
A break in the clouds bounced light into Ihsan’s eyes bringing him to a halt. Deviltwine sprouted out of the earth in front of him. The wire grazed the leather pouch at Ihsan’s waist. The muscles in Ihsan’s face drooped as enough money to house his daughter for a year and a compass clattered onto the ground. The compass popped open upon impact. The needle pointed East then swung West. It rotated back East again before rapidly flipping back and forth.
The creatures coming at Ihsan from behind rushed past him as he watched the compass in mute fascination. Those ahead that were closing in unknown at the start came out of their holes. The bulk of the creatures tilted their heads to the side or implanted their tendrils into the ground. A couple circled sniffing the air.
Panic bewitched Ihsan as he glimpsed his hollow features made more gaunt by a sharp bone structure in the metal plating covering the eyes of the closest creature. All of the tiny heads snapped in Ihsan’s direction when he shuffled through the coins in an attempt to get away.
* * *
I am sobbing even though I feel no nothing. The little aches and pains of life left along with the injuries I just suffered. The tears are not for the ribbons of flesh and leather looping around the bones which I am standing over. Nor do I weep for the state I find myself in. I suspected joining the forces at the hellbreach was a death sentence when I joined. I am bawling over the money Jalila will never get. Who will save my daughter now? The money will run out and she will be put out on the streets or worse.
Fuck this place. Fuck their gods. Fuck their petty politics. Fuck their demon-forsaken ways. Most of all however, fuck me. There is no moon to bless this land. My Hana will not know how to find me here. Hana is my moon, but she needs light to see by. Our daughter will die in this land of heathens. I am a fool. This is my doing. I should have kept with the ones strong enough to cope with this.
What do I do now? Find that queen of ravens perhaps? The others used to tell me she guides the dead here. I never should have left them. Maybe she can send someone to help Jalila when I meet her. I wonder how long it will take for her to show up. Do I seek her out? Where would I even start to look?
* * *
I watch the silhouette of my partner finish my food and water. I am satisfied that Havalorn was not killed. We are both carrying the same message. He passed out during the attack. He might never walk again. Once the creatures thought he was dead they moved on. They were not hunting for a meal.
I keep watch over him. I am surprised they did not return due to his snoring. He has a job to do. I do not know how I will help Havalorn should I spot trouble. I have to try.
* * *
Some scouts are sifting through my remains with sticks. Havalorn is telling them I turned on him. They share their relief over my demise as they prepare a litter to get him to a medic. I don’t really care. Many humans and elves are suspicious of those with my breeding. Being from a place few of them believe to be real did not help relations much either. They can think whatever they want of me as long as he delivers the message.
They split Jalila’s money between them. My partner gets the lion’s share since he was the one to earn it according to their rules. My cheeks sting as I scream at them. They do not hear me. They deem the compass to be broken since it does not point North. My heart hurts for the unicorn as her sacrifice is deemed useless and tossed aside. The degenerates use my remaining letters to Hana for toilet paper. I never did finish that last letter. Is that why she is not here? Am I unfaithful?
They drape my magical cloak over the scraps that are my remains. I am angry with myself now. Why did I not think to use the cloak to escape the creatures? I could be alive right now and sending Jalila her money instead of watching them pick my remains clean. Why am I such a coward? The cloak is used as the fuel to burn my corpse.
Fuck Corrisbank.
One scout clutches the bracers Blimgunot made for me. She slashes herself across the forehead with a spring-loaded dagger while attempting to read the inscription on one of the bracers. The others laugh after seeing it is just a flesh wound. I remember that same dagger being used by a child to cut a friend in the same place. I remember the broad strokes of my friends. The details of their faces are fleeing my memory. They were heroes. They deserve better than I gave them.
The scouts discuss a sale price as they walk away. They would get a lot more than their estimates if they knew what they have. I would not tell them the value even if they were capable of hearing me. I know I am being petty. I need this small act of spite right now even if I am the only one who knows about it.
* * *
I think it has been a few days. I have trouble tracking time without Havalorn to measure cycles by. I can not travel far from where my body fell. I have yet to determine what causes the distance to vary, but it is not far enough to find someone that might be able to see me.
The women that were supposed to walk beside me are not here. Neither of them are. Hana has a good excuse. Where is this raven?
* * *
What is that burst of light to the West? Did we lose? Are demons sweeping the land?
* * *
Something approaches. It is hazy around the edges, but feels more solid at its core than anything else I have seen since my death. Could it be the raven? I was never given a description. She is larger than I imagined. I guess she can do that being a deity.
I am being lifted by a great wind. I weep with joy as the raven is opening herself to take me in. The air is cool. Chilly even. Why do they call her the raven if she has no feathers? Or a beak? Or any other birdlike features at all?
Why am I shivering? How is it so cold? Is that circle a mouth? I am freezing! By the Moon! It has rows of teeth!
I do not want this!
I DO NOT WANT TH-
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