> F L O O D <
09-27-2018, 11:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-27-2018, 11:42 PM by Kaninchen.)
> Wake Up, Subject v1201.
You jerk awake, kicking out violently as though you had just escaped from nasty night terrors. Your foot knocks something over, but you're not sure what.
Finally, you open your eyes. You sort of expect to be blinded, but you're not. The room is dim. Your senses come back to you slowly, and you become aware of everything after some time.
It's a small room, most likely an apartment. A single dusty window is the only source of light, although as it is pouring rain outside, "light" is up for debate. The occasional flash of lightning illuminates the center of the room, shafts of light penetrating the brown-stained window which is currently rattling with the wind. Opposite of the window is a door, made of wood with metal reinforcements. A couch with a partially-open hideaway bed is on one side of the room, and a kitchenette is on the other. Old clothes, empty tin cans and microwave meal containers, and dust covers the couch. A table in front of the couch (and right next to you) has a lamp on it, which has been kicked over, although there is no light bulb and the lamp is metal so nothing seems broken. The stove and fridge are rusty and covered in ... food grime? You hope it's food.
You stand weakly, barely aware of yourself. You're not even sure who you are, or what you are, let alone why you're here.
You jerk awake, kicking out violently as though you had just escaped from nasty night terrors. Your foot knocks something over, but you're not sure what.
Finally, you open your eyes. You sort of expect to be blinded, but you're not. The room is dim. Your senses come back to you slowly, and you become aware of everything after some time.
It's a small room, most likely an apartment. A single dusty window is the only source of light, although as it is pouring rain outside, "light" is up for debate. The occasional flash of lightning illuminates the center of the room, shafts of light penetrating the brown-stained window which is currently rattling with the wind. Opposite of the window is a door, made of wood with metal reinforcements. A couch with a partially-open hideaway bed is on one side of the room, and a kitchenette is on the other. Old clothes, empty tin cans and microwave meal containers, and dust covers the couch. A table in front of the couch (and right next to you) has a lamp on it, which has been kicked over, although there is no light bulb and the lamp is metal so nothing seems broken. The stove and fridge are rusty and covered in ... food grime? You hope it's food.
You stand weakly, barely aware of yourself. You're not even sure who you are, or what you are, let alone why you're here.
Can anyone curse a REAL sword?