Storm King's Thunder

Drunken Self-Doubt

Session Six

Michael had enough of the fight. This creature was stronger than he or any of his party had anticipated. He was beaten down, covered in acid and the sole person in hand to hand combat with a seemingly unkillable creature. Again he felt the rage boil up in him as he gripped his sword tightly with both hands and readied his last lunge into the arms of death.

You will fail. Your friends will die along with you, bodies rotting on the floor of the black lake for all eternity. There is no hope left. Give up human, you have lost.

Echoing through is head were line after line of self doubt and defeat. For a brief moment they seemed to grip him, consume him. He was a horrible creature, a wretched creature. The things he has done in the past, the women, children, families he had decimated and wiped from this world. The monstrosities he had acted out under the guise of “loyalty” and “honor.”

His party was scattered around him, barely alive. The paladin struggling to drag himself from the depths of depravity and into the light of righteousness now lay as an acid-soaked corpse at the creatures feat. Somewhere down the tunnel he could hear the shrieks and crys of their warlock as he struggled on the ground, his sight taken from him and his face and body horribly disfigured. The archer, still clinging to life, had dragged himself off into a corner and lost the battle with consciousness.

Things were about as bad as they have ever been.

I don’t deserve to be alive. He found himself questioning his own worth when suddenly something deep inside him snapped. Maybe it was the achohol, maybe he had finally lost it, or maybe it was divine intervention (whatever the hell that is). He couldn’t fail now, not now, not ever. He didn’t make it this far to become some creatures play thing. If he was going down she was going with him, kicking and screaming, into the Abyss.

NEVER! Screamed Michael as he lept towards the creature. His blade bit deep and immediately after a flash of greenish flame tore through her chest. She flew backwards and crumpled to the ground. Standing fully upright, every ounce of his being ached. If there was a God he would have whispered a small prayer at this point. Instead, he turned to collect his friends.

Comments

Cordell_Jacques neziritch

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