Gabe leaned heavily against the rusted iron gate, his breath ragged and his clothes torn. Blood seeped through the fabric of his shirt, staining the ground beneath him. He cursed under his breath, his usual smirk long gone, replaced by a grimace of pain and frustration. He had gone after the rage demon alone, thinking he could handle it. A mistake—one that nearly cost him his life.
The abandoned estate in Starkhaven loomed behind him, a silent sentinel to the horrors it now housed. The demon had been feeding on something foul within those walls, growing stronger with each passing day. Gabe’s wards had barely held during the fight, and now he was left battered and bruised, struggling to gather his strength.
Healing had never been his forte. His magic was more suited for the offensive, and he lacked the skill to mend the damage the demon had inflicted. The pain was sharp and relentless, and he knew he wouldn’t last long without help.
Gabe took a slow, labored breath, his mind racing through options. Charging back in alone would be suicide. He needed backup, someone with a sword arm or the ability to patch him up—preferably both. A Templar might have the steel and the nerve to face what was inside, or perhaps a fellow mage with a better grasp on healing than his own.
He wasn’t one to ask for help, but the situation left him no choice. The demon was a growing threat, one that couldn’t be left unchecked. Gabe wouldn’t let his pride stand in the way of what needed to be done.
He pushed himself upright, wincing at the sharp pain in his side, and fished out his last cigarette. Lighting it with a shaky hand, he took a long drag, trying to steady himself. He’d wait here at the gate, hoping someone—anyone—would come.
Gabe exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air, the bitter taste a small comfort against the cold reality of the situation. He didn’t have much time, and he knew it.
@Jareth
The abandoned estate in Starkhaven loomed behind him, a silent sentinel to the horrors it now housed. The demon had been feeding on something foul within those walls, growing stronger with each passing day. Gabe’s wards had barely held during the fight, and now he was left battered and bruised, struggling to gather his strength.
Healing had never been his forte. His magic was more suited for the offensive, and he lacked the skill to mend the damage the demon had inflicted. The pain was sharp and relentless, and he knew he wouldn’t last long without help.
Gabe took a slow, labored breath, his mind racing through options. Charging back in alone would be suicide. He needed backup, someone with a sword arm or the ability to patch him up—preferably both. A Templar might have the steel and the nerve to face what was inside, or perhaps a fellow mage with a better grasp on healing than his own.
He wasn’t one to ask for help, but the situation left him no choice. The demon was a growing threat, one that couldn’t be left unchecked. Gabe wouldn’t let his pride stand in the way of what needed to be done.
He pushed himself upright, wincing at the sharp pain in his side, and fished out his last cigarette. Lighting it with a shaky hand, he took a long drag, trying to steady himself. He’d wait here at the gate, hoping someone—anyone—would come.
Gabe exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air, the bitter taste a small comfort against the cold reality of the situation. He didn’t have much time, and he knew it.
@Jareth
09-10-2024, 12:00 PM
