Narrator – OOG Mercy 04

(Bregg is finding it increasingly more difficult to maneuver the injured noble through the strange temple. He stops and leans him against a protruding wall buttress. The man’s teeth begin to chatter as if he’s been standing on a windswept winter bluff. His teeth clacking so loudly, Bregg wonders if the finely aligned teeth will crumble from the stress.)

“What is wrong with you!? Why are you cold?”

(He turns toward K’ain and Ra’aviik for confirmation but they seem interested in something else out of his sight.)

“K’ain. He’s freezing. He must be taking a turn toward the worse. What can we do?”

(K’ain glances toward the man, then back toward the unseen. His eyes though…were filled with tears. His face, a picture of utter despair. The Cóng Manii warrior suddenly launches a string of uncomprehensible words in his native tongue…at a volume too great for these narrow passages.)

“K’ain! What is…”

(And then he sees it. His hand appears odd, as if the very skin is turning opaque. The veins and muscles and sinews and bone…he can see them all! The skin is as glass now, the blood moves so fast…so very very very very god damned fast! Thanks be to Aethelgrim! At the very least it is not his sword hand. But what shall he do? A warrior with a hand of glass!?)

“Ra’aviik! K’ain! Davyn! Look at me! Why are you ignoring me!? Look! My hand!”

(He grabs the Nyverian boy and spins him toward him, holding the affected hand before his face. Then Davyn peers through the hand, past the bones, into Bregg’s face…smiles and waves.)

“Hellooooo Bregg. When I train with you. Some day…might I be a warrior with a hand of glass as well?”

(Then ‘SWUPFT!’ The hand bursts into flame. The glass-like skin bubbling and popping…expanding from the heat of the angry conflagration. He runs toward the door, hoping to find a fountain….a holy water font….ANYTHING! )

“Help meeeeee!”

(He manages to tear at his pack with his one normal hand, removing the wine skin made of akraat hide. He pulls the stopper with his teeth, and after a soft pop, he upturns the vessel over the roiling flames. Nothing. The skin is empty. The hand is now entirely engulfed. The smell of flesh being consumed by fire fills his nostrils.)

(The hand now begins to melt.)