Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-27783182-20140210215513/@comment-5583506-20140303003809

Rashka sank to his knees in the mud and the dirt, bending over the remains of the vampire. His breath was rugged and hollow and blood seeped from the wounds he had contracted.

Then he started to laugh maniacally. It was not a pleasant sound. Even he didn't like the sound of his own laughter, but somehow he couldn't help himself. The whole thing was so comical, he though.

"THAT'S IT?!" he laughed, coughing all along as he did it. "Was that all you had?! So much for the great dreaded vampire!"

He spat his blood in the remains of the vampire and then fell silent. He didn't realize until now that he was in another plane of existence. A place where he didn't belong. He raised his shoulders in ignorance. Nothing suprised him anymore. And judging by his own wounds, he wouldn't last longer anyhow. Luna was nowhere to be seen with her healing potions or Ertius with his healing capabilities.

"Shame", said Rashka and crawled under a large rock. "Shame that the fight didn't last longer... this one would didn't even had time to enjoy it."

It didn't matter though, he thought. The vampire was dead and he himself was dying, perhaps it was meant to be this way. He felt something brush underneath his leg. He felt something on the inside of his pants and fetched the item up. It was a bottle. Not a bottle of healing potion, but a brew he was all too familiar with.

Skooma, said the note on the bottle. He smiled. Perhaps dying alone like this wasn't so bad after all...