More Like A Cruel Joke
Prolouge
Maze burst out of the earth, choking on the dank dirt. He gasped for air desperately clawing himself out the ground fearing being swallowed up again into that darkness. His nails raked the grass and finally he grabbed hold of a clump of long weeds with roots strong enough to give him leverage. Slowly, laboriously he wrenched himself free of the earth then felt spasms size his stomach. He wretched up yet more dirt, sputtered, wheezed, and fell back taking in huge gulps of air. Despite this horrifying awakening he was beginning to smile, simply because he was breathing. Last thing he knew he was lying on his back, taking what he thought was his last breathes while the great Hero, that once helpless little boy, stared at him.
He sat there, counting the beats of his heart and his breathes not caring in the least where he was. Finally he climbed onto shaky legs and took a few small steps forward, only to have his bare toes collide with something soft and warm. The night was to dark and his eyes were still unused to seeing again, but he could distinctly smell fresh blood. He knelt down and felt at the corpse it could not have been more than 20 minutes old, the skin was still warm and the fingers were still loose and pliable. As his eyes began to focus Maze noticed how oddly the man was dressed, heeled shoes, a long coat, thin stockings and knee length pants, it was all rather effeminate by his reckoning.
Maze then noticed his own clothes, his golden mail and purple robes were gone, along with his trinkets and trophies. He wore only a pair of pants and a loose shirt, made of coarse linen. He tsked, supremely annoyed that the people of Hook Coast had seen fit to rob him whilst they thought he was dead, they would not have dared had they known he lived. His will lines however still glowed over his skin, he reached inward to his mana supply and found it to be replenishing. He may be without weapons but he was still far from helpless.
He stood and left the man's body, but took a small dagger that had slipped from the corpse's hand. It was a savage little thing, its hilt set with blood stones and the blade rippling like the root of an evil tree. He attempted to take a few more steps but soon doubled over from pure exhaustion, his mana may be at full strength but his body still needed to recover. His now empty stomach rumbled and ached, and his muscles cried for rest. Maze lifted himself to one knee and cast a healing spell on himself, soothing his pains but not helping his hunger. He considered searching the body again but thought better of it, hearing the cluck of nearby chickens.
He lifted a hand and shot a small lightning bolt at one, killing it in an instant. He crawled over to it and used the dagger to skin it quickly, then did his best to flash cook it with some conjured fire. It seared on the outside and was nearly raw with but it was food none the less and he ate as much as his upset stomach would allow. Finally he crawled into some nearby bushes, under which was a patch of cool soft grass and he gave into his body's final plea and fell asleep, storing up the strength to get himself out of this place and to safety at dawn' first light.