blood, blood, blood— none. you bleed and bleed, the blood does not stop, until it does. you bleed and bleed— it stops again. oh. oh. oh. there truly is no rest for the wicked. how terrible.
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〝 Valen … 〞
I look at the stranger from head to toe, not with malicious intentions, but rather to see if he carries one himself.
〝 … i am — Durge, i think. i do not remember clearly.〞
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“Well that’s good to hear, my name is Valen.”
The Cleric seemed to be a rather new adventurer. Based on the non-magical gear he had.
He wore heavy chainmail with a gambeson underneath, a shield on his wrist and mace on his hip.
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The sudden voice pulls me from the depths of my darkened mind. Suddenly… the voices … the whispers, they all fade away.
From my knees, i look up to see a lone woman approaching me.
〝 w — who are you ? 〞
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Like most other Bhaalspawns, Durge has a slayer form. But unlike the rest, Durge’s is much paler and has a distinctive red color going from his neck down to his belly and underside.
Durge’s slayer form is much bigger than the rest. More violent. Bloodthirsty and unstable.
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Suddenly, my mind goes loud. The whispers creep back in… slowly, painfully… loudly.
My vision blurs and I begin to spiral… lose my footing, collapsing to my knees and clutching my head.
𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵.
𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
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Ruffling amongst the tall grass. I stand still for a moment, waiting to see.
Waiting to see … a rabbit?
Suddenly, darkness. For a moment, I am lost. And then … the next, I find myself?
I find myself standing with bloodstained hands. The rabbit I saw earlier…
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— ripped in two.
Nothing good comes survives my wretched touch.
Nothing good lasts around me.
Nothing good comes from me.
And nothing good … ever will.
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