The assassins then turned their attention towards Rovin. They mumbled something unintelligible, but whatever they said was lost on him. He was feeling woozy as soon as he felt one of the blades scratch his shoulders through his chainmail, but it didn't seem to matter.
It was all for naught, he thought. He had made a promise to a girl he had met not more than ten minutes ago. He promised to keep her safe. And he had failed.
But even so, one last thought had echoed in his mind as he began to black out. He had lost. He had lost badly. Sure, he might come to accept it in time. And he’d even admit it was a part of life.
But how much worse could things get?
~^+^~
^+^ Antediluvian of the Draculesti Bloodline ^+^
^+^ If the Gods see fit to curse us with the Blood, then we shall raise ourselves above them ^+^
15-Aug-2011 19:55:44
- Last edited on
25-Sep-2013 06:13:46
by
A Mad Hatter