Of Death and Life
So this is what it's like to die.
I don't know what I had expected. Searing pain, perhaps. Icy fingers trailing over my skin. An angel hovering with hands outstretched. Or darkness.
There was pain, of course. The dragon's claw tore through my armor like tissue. I could feel my skin breaking under its touch, could feel my blood spread like a warm flood over my chest. It burned. It froze. It tore the breath from my lungs in gasps, each one more painful than the last.
I don't know when I fell.
Now… Now there is just a pleasant numbness. I hear their voices as if through the fog of a dream, vague and distant. His, especially.
He is shouting, but I cannot hear what he says. I try to open my eyes, but the movement sends a bitter wave of nausea through me and I lay my head against the stones, giving up.
But he will not.
I feel myself being pulled this way and that, roughly. My armor is torn from my body like the skin of a snake, and I feel his hands searching my skin.
His voice. Burning.
Trembling.
Then soothing. Bringing warmth and life.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Bioward, Interplay, or the Baldur's Gate series other than copies of the games themselves and an overactive imagination. Thank you.