No.

[KUSHerZombie 222]

((Had some pretty sweet RP today, thought I'd share it with you all :) ))    

 Earlier that day, Maxwell was appointed by Fjordin Sylver to come help him and a few others along with three duchies, to raid the Praedium. He went along. It was rather boring, until they captured the Baron himself.

 

    They took him to Petrus, and locked him up. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maxwell was dismissed later after that. He went to a tavern, and had an ale. Nothing out of the ordinary. Fjordin was ordered to guard the Baron for the trial.

 

 

 

      Maxwell wandered down the street. It had been around five hours since the incident, and Fjordin was still guarding the Baron. He receives a bird, with horrid chicken-scratch of handwriting, and crimson dotting the parchment. “I need yo** Petrus **w -[F]” It read. Max got an immediate sense of panic. It filled all of his senses, and he began running. 

  

   He ran faster than he had ever run before. Adrenaline pumping through his body. He arrived at Petrus, and with profound determination, screamed at anybody who blocked his way between himself and Fjordin. He could not let whatever was happening happen. Maxwell knew it was bad.

 

     Another wave of panic struck him when he saw Fjordin lying motionless with blood seeping out of his neck. There were bite marks. Max knew he had to get Fjordin back to Sylverport, and fast, regardless of what anybody said. Maxwell was with a few other friends from Sylverport, and they helped take Fjordin to Sylverport on a horse, rather than by foot. They could not risk any time, Fjordin could die at any minute.

 

    They finally arrived in Sylverport. Maxwell immediately began to work on treating his room, pummeling anybody in his way. He had to get to Fjordin. No time could be wasted.

 

   Maxwell reached the bed of the dying governor, and immediately began to treat him. He began to work so fast some say he was a blurr. He did everything he could, but knew that Fjordin would die without a monk or cleric’s aid. Maxwell also knew that that was nearly impossible without a few elven day’s notice. Max had to find an alternative.

 

 

      That’s when it hit him. It was an infection causing the harm, not necessarily the wound. He got the strongest disinfectants that he knew of. Lemon juice, basil. white vinegar, and a few other things. He put them all in to one vial, and doused a bandage with the contents.

 

     It was a miracle. It was working. Fjordin twitched. It wasn’t just a twitch to Maxwell, though, it was a sign of hope. And with that hope, Maxwell began to work harder than ever. He applied tippens root to help ease the pain, and gave him water. Fjordin went to sleep.

 

 

   Maxwell began talking with a government member of Sylverport, Cealum. Max was speaking with him about how his life is as if when he was in the womb, god just took a huge **** on him, as he has suffered his whole life. He began to list them, but held back a few.

 

   “My father was a sociopathic killer who beat me and killed by brother.” He murmurs. Number one. “My partner died.” Number two. “All of my family have died.” Number three. “I’ve faced chronic depression since I was 20.” Number four. The list goes on, but never does he name is two darkest secrets. 

 

 

    Max sighs, and grabs a vial of his strongest poison. It’s a dark green colour, and has a cork top. He pops it off, and brings it in front of his face, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. He just can’t. “What if Fjordin wakes up and I’m not there to help him…” “What if I would’ve been granted my wish?” “What if…” He can’t do it. He throws the poison across the room. The glass shatters and a puddle of green liquid forms on the floor. He could’ve ended it all. But he wouldn’t. Fjordin could still live.

 

  Max went over to his anvil, and began relentlessly working on smithing, to take his mind off of things. It didn’t work, but the repetitiveness of the smithing hammer hitting the steel of the blade being forged brought him comfort. “Finally. A constant in life. For once, can I have that?” He prays.

 

He smiths.

And smiths.

And smiths....

 

  He awaits to hear Fjordin’s voice again. To see his intimidating face, to listen to him shouting at people. Max could not let his leader die. He would not allow it.

 

[lawnmowerman 3040]

Samuel hopes Fjordin never awakes.

[Gunner 775]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.