Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebonflame (one word) creates ananhkoloxto guard the city, (CR 9, can do it because undeath domain so 2 levels higher for undeath related stuff) but orders it to capture, not kill.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
The man whimpers in pain and tears fall from his eyes, but he continues walking, holding on to the crown tightly.
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebonflame (one word) creates ananhkoloxto guard the city, (CR 9, can do it because undeath domain so 2 levels higher for undeath related stuff) but orders it to capture, not kill.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebonflame (one word) creates ananhkoloxto guard the city, (CR 9, can do it because undeath domain so 2 levels higher for undeath related stuff) but orders it to capture, not kill.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebonflame (one word) creates ananhkoloxto guard the city, (CR 9, can do it because undeath domain so 2 levels higher for undeath related stuff) but orders it to capture, not kill.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
The crown starts vibrating heavily as they descend, and there are faint crackling sounds coming from the crown.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
The man whimpers in pain and tears fall from his eyes, but he continues walking, holding on to the crown tightly.
A strong wind blows up causing sand to prick his exposed flesh painfully. The dust gathers in a swirling form that hardens into the towering, skeletal, horned, ponchoed, form of the Desert Lord. He speaks in a voice as dry as the parched earth he stands on, "Why do you bear that crown?"
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
The man whimpers in pain and tears fall from his eyes, but he continues walking, holding on to the crown tightly.
A strong wind blows up causing sand to prick his exposed flesh painfully. The dust gathers in a swirling form that hardens into the towering, skeletal, horned, ponchoed, form of the Desert Lord. He speaks in a voice as dry as the parched earth he stands on, "Why do you bear that crown?"
“E-every crown needs a bearer… what’s a crown without a king?”
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
The man whimpers in pain and tears fall from his eyes, but he continues walking, holding on to the crown tightly.
A strong wind blows up causing sand to prick his exposed flesh painfully. The dust gathers in a swirling form that hardens into the towering, skeletal, horned, ponchoed, form of the Desert Lord. He speaks in a voice as dry as the parched earth he stands on, "Why do you bear that crown?"
“E-every crown needs a bearer… what’s a crown without a king?”
"What sort of king where's a crown like that?" Crotalus kneels down and reaches a skeletal hand out to his snake bite wound which is red and inflamed and searing with venom-induced pain.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
The man whimpers in pain and tears fall from his eyes, but he continues walking, holding on to the crown tightly.
A strong wind blows up causing sand to prick his exposed flesh painfully. The dust gathers in a swirling form that hardens into the towering, skeletal, horned, ponchoed, form of the Desert Lord. He speaks in a voice as dry as the parched earth he stands on, "Why do you bear that crown?"
“E-every crown needs a bearer… what’s a crown without a king?”
"What sort of king where's a crown like that?" Crotalus kneels down and reaches a skeletal hand out to his snake bite wound which is red and inflamed and searing with venom-induced pain.
“E-every crown needs a bearer… what’s a crown without a king?”
"What sort of king where's a crown like that?" Crotalus kneels down and reaches a skeletal hand out to his snake bite wound which is red and inflamed and searing with venom-induced pain.
The man flinches when Crotalus touches the wound.
through parch lips and a raspy voice, he answers.
”A dead one.”
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
“E-every crown needs a bearer… what’s a crown without a king?”
"What sort of king where's a crown like that?" Crotalus kneels down and reaches a skeletal hand out to his snake bite wound which is red and inflamed and searing with venom-induced pain.
The man flinches when Crotalus touches the wound.
through parch lips and a raspy voice, he answers.
”A dead one.”
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Crotalus is standing atop his Haunted Mesa, watching a man below in his desert.
A man is wandering through the edge of the desert. He is dehydrated and starving, but isn’t looking for food or water. In his hands is a crown made of wilted twigs, leaves, and a few living pale flowers. The thorns on the crown have cut his hands. Power radiates from the crown, and it seems familiar to Crotalus, like he’s seen it before…
Crotalus moves past the man, hidden from his eyes in the form of a small gust of swirling sand. Four coyotes step out of the dry shrubbery. They eye the man hungrily.
The man keeps walking, his eyes fearfully looking towards the coyotes, terrified, but his blank expression doesn’t change at all. He’s under some sort of spell.
He walks right through the coyotes. They simply stand and watch him. The beasts have hunger in their eyes but something holds them back.
After continuing on for a while, he hears a chilling rattle. The dirt right in front of him twists and you can see the vibrating tail of a diamondback, neck poised ready to strike if he takes another step.
The man continues walking, breathing heavily and horrified. But he keeps walking.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
PM me the word tomato
He steps on the serpent, and it squirms underneath his feet. In one swift movement it sinks its fangs into his exposed flesh. Venom and pain shoot up his leg and fill his bloodstream with blazing needles.
The man whimpers in pain and tears fall from his eyes, but he continues walking, holding on to the crown tightly.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
The crown starts vibrating heavily as they descend, and there are faint crackling sounds coming from the crown.
”a possible bearer…“ the man mutters.
A strong wind blows up causing sand to prick his exposed flesh painfully. The dust gathers in a swirling form that hardens into the towering, skeletal, horned, ponchoed, form of the Desert Lord. He speaks in a voice as dry as the parched earth he stands on, "Why do you bear that crown?"
“E-every crown needs a bearer… what’s a crown without a king?”
"What sort of king where's a crown like that?" Crotalus kneels down and reaches a skeletal hand out to his snake bite wound which is red and inflamed and searing with venom-induced pain.
The man flinches when Crotalus touches the wound.
through parch lips and a raspy voice, he answers.
”A dead one.”
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.