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He remembers that it was at least over 450 years ago, long before he joined the Ariequa Tribe.
He remembers a gruesome battle. One filled with broken corpses, blood, and the constant yelling and screaming of those who were in it. He remembers being impaled by a spear, or was it a scepter? Whatever it was, it was imbued with some sort of decaying magic or spell. He remembers how his body screamed when it pierced through his skin. He remembers the feeling of when he felt it get pulled out of his body but not before he felt a disgusting, withering feeling in the wound area.
He doesn't remember after blacking out but he does remember waking up to sobs and yelling. The medic was crying because of something, and the leader was yelling at their subordinates, but anything that wasn't crying or yelling was silent. Creepy, eerie silence. He vaguely remembers the loudness of the crying and yelling dying down after he made a noise of some sort. A grunt maybe? He doesn't remember that.
The medic is holding back tears as they talk to him, something about how his body was rotting away. He didn't want to believe that. That he was dying. He wanted to believe that it was a dream, that it all wasn't real. That was quickly shut down when a horrible pulse of pure pain erupted from his thorax as he bent over to clutch it. It was awful. He could feel his lungs crumbling his breathing becoming unsteady, the rapid breaths coming from him, the shaking, the fear. He couldn't move. He didn't want to. He couldn't even if he did.
He vaguely registered panicked yelling coming from someone but he couldn't focus on that. Not when he felt like throwing up. He would tear himself apart if he had the strength. He was so lost in the sheer pain that he didn't notice the medic running up to him and inserting something sharp into his body. He only noticed the world and the pain slipping away before he went unconscious.
The next time he woke up, the pain wasn't as bad. The medic said he had to go find the cure with their enchantress by leaving camp. He won't deny that it sounded like an awful idea but going out to do something sounded more appealing than doing nothing but just sitting down and slowly rotting to death in the infirmary.
He got up and prepared, doing it quickly so he had more time. He wanted to live, thank you very much. The enchantress was nice. She didn't push him if it wasn't necessary and she didn't scream at him for needing to take a ridiculous amount of breaks every time the decay disease acted up and got worse. They did get ambushed by some monsters when they were halfway to their destination. He accidentally overexerted himself at the first attack when a skeletal being charged at him, forcing him to act on instinct rather than logic. The pain got worse because of it.
He remembered seeing the place. He remembered the small spark of joy when he saw it, only to be crushed by the overwhelming pain wracking his body. It was like the time in the infirmary but worse. Much, much worse. This time, he felt like he was being crushed, breathing became a chore, his head was spinning rapidly, his vision was failing, and never before had he wished for death as much as now.
He couldn't handle it and collapsed, hitting the ground beneath him with a verbal thud. The enchantress ran at him, frantically assessing his current condition which was by no means, good. With him having fallen almost face first to the ground, only slight being to the side, it was hard to make eye contact but when they did, she immediately understood what she had to do. She quickly got up and ran towards the place which should have the cure for the decay disease.
He remembered his mind slipping, his breathing slowing down, his vision going black before a strong burst of energy coursed through his body. It was painful, even more than the disease itself, hot and simply overwhelming. Then it calmed down a little bit, and it slowly became more bearable. It stopped hurting after a while. He opened his eyes and saw the enchantress looking down on him with worry plastered on her face before it shifted over to relief not long after he opened his eyes.
He still felt off. Something was wrong.
He gestured for the enchantress to move away before he tried to summon some vines. He could not stop the shock when he saw that they were an ugly, rotted color. As if the disease was still there, still alive, ready to attempt to take his life once more. He barely noticed the fact that he was shaking when he turned his head over to the enchantress. She had a sad expression on her face as she explained that the disease caused so much damage that not all of it could be completely reverted. He would be like this forever. Half-dead, half-alive. He barely noticed the tears falling down his face but he remembered that he couldn't care about that any less.
He wasn't alive, but he wasn't dead.
What was he?
.
..
…
….
He didn't want to keep remembering after that.
Maybe he'll take a quick nap. Nothing to hurt or kill him now. He's safe. He definitely wants a nap. He closes his eyes and darkness once again washes over him. This time, it's relaxing instead of relieving.