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What shall I, frail man, be pleading?


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Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus,
Cum vix iustus sit securus?
- Dies Irae


The man sat in his bed, his face deformed beyond recognition, and his eye sockets... empty. Admittedly, eyes were not the only thing he was lacking, for he had lost hope a long time ago too. He could only recite the words of his master;
"Let the despair consume you." "One needs to fall before they can truly rise."Oh how awful it must be, to not know what is where..."

Sigmar was a coward. He had no doubt in that, he had accepted that long ago. Yet what he could not accept was going blind. It was by his own doing, for he had ripped his eyes out in the depths of Heith-Hedran, though death is a confusing experience. He came to regret that decision soon after being brought back to Aevos, yet he couldn't do much about it. He had little money, and even fewer means to acquire a new set of eyes, and though he cared not for glory and honor, he would not chuck his dignity away by begging. He was stubborn, and he did not even try to regain his sight, for he could surely go without it. Yet he was proven wrong soon after, many times in fact. A constantly broken nose, and an anxiety about quite literally everything had overtaken him, and he only know got to know true fear.

Oh how he pleaded that night, it could not be described with a thousand words. The visions were getting more and more frequent, an almost constant image of the 
Heith-Hedran was all he 'saw'. He was living now in a constant state of pain, horror, and anxiety. He feared all that was to come, and all that has passed. That night, he could no longer take it. He sat on his bed, he wasn't even sure it was his bed, yet he sat down and pleaded. Possibly to God, maybe himself, most likely out into the open. And after some endless hours of such, he found himself laying on his back, slowly drifting to sleep.



Upon acceptance of the feat application: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/229415-seer-feat-fa-handsomefloppa/?tab=comments#comment-1999968, here is detailed the dream he received.

A figure glared down at him from above, he knew not where it came from, nor why it was there, yet he felt a strange connection form, perhaps already formed long ago.

Only now did he realize- he could see. It was certainly confusing, but he knew not that it was a dream.

The figure approached him, producing a blindfold from its robe's many compartments, which it raised in front of its face. Sigmar now made out that the figure didn't have eyes, and yet when it tied the blindfold around its face, a strange ethereal, golden glow appeared, taking the form of two perfectly healthy, golden eyes.

"Cover your eyes, Talinn-" Upon the mention of this name, Sigmar took a step back. "- Cover your eyes, and see!" The figure laughed out after, especially so when Sigmar backed off. The blindfold was promptly removed, and tossed in the direction of Sigmar, and upon making contact with his skin, a message was made bright and clear to him "Ne'er reveal this gift, lest you lose it."

And to Sigmar, it was clear. He awoke in his bed, with a sliver of determination in his eternally darkened soul. He needed a blindfold!



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