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(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

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Others <strong>be</strong>lieved that it shone <strong>to</strong> <strong>to</strong>rment the damned: a constant reminder <strong>of</strong><br />

what was lost, a hope so distant that none could grasp it.<br />

In a valley that had known only war and violation, a river ran <strong>be</strong>tween the<br />

hills. The river ran through all the Outer Planes, but here one could follow it<br />

for eternity and know only pain. On the river was a single rowboat, piled<br />

high with the souls <strong>of</strong> the dead. The ferryman was blind and deaf and dumb,<br />

but its skeletal hands gripped its staff firmly, guiding its cargo <strong>to</strong> their final<br />

destinations.<br />

A single body twitched, and tumbled over the side.<br />

The ferryman <strong>to</strong>ok no <strong>not</strong>ice at the form as it floated: gray and scarred and<br />

puckered as it was, it would've blended in<strong>to</strong> the foggy waters even if the<br />

ferryman had eyes <strong>to</strong> see with. Instead it rowed on, leaving the thing <strong>be</strong>hind.<br />

The river carried the lump silently for a time, and if anything lived <strong>to</strong> see it,<br />

none knew what it was.<br />

For an eternity it floated, until it hit the shallows. The waters swept it quietly<br />

on<strong>to</strong> the bank... on<strong>to</strong> the <strong>be</strong>ach <strong>of</strong> the Silent Shore.<br />

He coughed then, fluid spilling from his mouth and pouring <strong>do</strong>wn his cheeks.<br />

The stranger rolled <strong>to</strong> his side retching it up, warm and thick, until none was<br />

left in him. He'd had enough <strong>of</strong> forgetting.<br />

His eyes blinked, and his vision refocused. The bleak clouds swam by in the<br />

distance, and nearby he could see a bundle <strong>of</strong> weapons sticking up from the<br />

ground. Ancient things, rusted <strong>to</strong> near uselessness.<br />

He leaped <strong>to</strong> his feet then, steadying himself. The stranger breathed once<br />

more, taking in his surroundings, the knowledge <strong>of</strong> where he was. The stink<br />

<strong>of</strong> <strong>death</strong> and depravity was in the air, but he breathed it in anyway. He<br />

needed <strong>to</strong> get used <strong>to</strong> the taste <strong>of</strong> it.<br />

Leaning forward the stranger crawled up the hillside. The dirt peeled away<br />

from his hands and boots like ancient scabs. The dampness on his palms<br />

mingled with the dust and churned it in<strong>to</strong> a bloody mush <strong>be</strong>tween his fingers,<br />

and the harsh tang <strong>of</strong> iron filled his nostrils. The roar <strong>of</strong> thunder seemed <strong>to</strong><br />

<strong>be</strong> coming over the hill.<br />

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