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BattleMaster => Roleplaying => Topic started by: Arundel on September 13, 2012, 05:51:09 AM

Title: After 34 hours preaching in DoS, my fustration rose dramatically.
Post by: Arundel on September 13, 2012, 05:51:09 AM
The Desert of Silhouettes was much more massive and barren than the imagination could comprehend. Dunes of sand stretched over the horizon as far as the eye could see, and further more after that. You'd need gaze only a few moments before the mirage took over, fooling you into believing that the burning floor beneath your feet was actually a puddle of revitalizing water. And as if things weren't already tough, unknown sounds would slither here and squeal over there, startle you one minute then surprise you again the next. That second you thought you finally made flat footing on a carpet of sand, carefully balancing your weight in a sincere effort to keep your sudden streak going, ruined a second later as your foot suddenly sinks up to your hips in sand.

And there stood Alice, at the edge of hell under a tabernacle and its saving shade, away from the sun and from the desert's embrace. Her tiny holy shelter was almost its own separate world, but yet, still the same. Behind her, in a comfortable small chair, was the one peasant that occupied this entire stretch of nothingness; some could say he was its sole owner, able to survive here for decades on food - or something like food, if there ever was any - perhaps even his own excrement. He didn't smell great either, reeking the stench of a hundred years without bathing. So Alice made sure to keep her distance, but in all her effort, she couldn't hide from his eyes. They glossed over her with the most saturated lust known to man; he probably stopped bathing the day he last saw a woman.

Yet, for three days in a row, Alice had preached to this one man, twelve hours each day for the first two days, then ten hours the third with continuous failure. He merely sat there, mute, starring at some kind of angel of pleasure and beauty as she went on and on about flames and gods and pantheons and myths and the creation of the world and so on. All of it was chaotic noise to him, all he wanted was a rough tumble and a good night.

Alice looked back at him, not even sure if he spoke English or not, and asked him to leave when his ten hours drew to a close. She was fed up, tired, dehydrated, and simply unwilling to go on further. He seemed to understand the notion, especially with the large muscle man of a body guard - who accompanied Alice - pushing him towards the exit. He turned one last time to catch a glimpse of Alice's figure in all its glory, then, as if he had no shame or regrets, he went off back into the unknown hell, peeling away from vision over the last hill amongst a million more.