Dragoncrest Cliffs i gotta get mine, i gotta get it

dated 03/13

In the middle of ripping Blackhead's throat out, his eyes opened, and the scene disappeared.

He lay in a quiet, herb-smelling place he didn't recognize at first; soft afternoon light flooded through the entrance, and the nearby sound of waves was a quiet murmur. Vercingetorix groaned, feeling his head begin to pound. He made to rise to his paws--and slumped back down again, as if every muscle were weighed down by thousands of pounds.

Every movement was agony. He began to realize, with utter disgust, that killing the Rusalkan witch had been a dream only. Instead, he was here, clinging to life. The last thing he remembered was seeing the tall shadows of the redwoods. After that, it had all gone to darkness, and then dreams had slowly surfaced, like bubbles in boiling water.

But there was plenty to recall before he'd collapsed just past the border. Insolent Blackhead, going after him. Her mouthy friend following suit. They'd fucking jumped him. And--

And he was still by the sea! Where was Aure?! Where was Drageda?! Had they sought vengeance for his sake? If so, he was not about to let them charge into battle without him.

Gritting his teeth, Verx tried to stand again and collapsed with a rasping roar of agony, hanging his head. His throat felt like it was on fire; every breath seemed strained, and noises were even worse. Breathing hard, he lounged with a low, furious growl simmering in his chest, eyes like blue fire.