Our warrior had lost one of his legs after heroically challenging an enemy commander to a duel (to give us time to either dispose of the soldiers or to run). The GM decided that such courage ought to be rewarded and used the near death experience as a trigger for magic (awakening, as we called it in our universe). The warrior ended up being a necromancer. This has led to various funny situations, as the party tried to figure out how to best exploit this newfound talent.
Me: So, I guess we’re going to need a peg leg, huh?
Former warrior: *reading up on his new magic talents* Yeah…hey, it says here that I can sense and summon ghosts. Does that apply to objects as well?
GM: I suppose.
Rogue: *getting excited* So he could have like spectral weapons?
GM: *consults notes* Yes, though they would shatter easily.
Archer: What about -
Rogue: Wait. Is the ghost of his leg there?
Rest of party: *stifling laughter*
Rogue: So is it?
GM: *hesitates* I guess…
Former warrior: *starts grinning*
Rogue: *grins back* Guys…
Rest of party: Yeah?
Rogue: Spectral limbs!
Party: *bursts into laughter*
GM: …Okay, for the sheer hilarity I’ll allow it.
Former warrior: Yes! *performs spell*
GM: *sighs* I can’t believe I am saying this…You summon the ghost of your leg. Congratulations, you now have a spectral peg leg.
Bellamy doesn’t believe in any higher power, not really. He also doesn’t believe in fate, or coincidence, or any of those other things that people like to blame random happenings on.
But he will admit that if he did actually believe in any of those things, he would be fully convinced that they were laughing at his misfortune at this very minute which. Honestly, he would be too if not for the stab wound in his side. Stab wounds apparently make the whole laughing thing kind of difficult. Who’d’ve known.
“Would you just hold still?” Clarke huffs as she tries to clean the wound.
“And your bedside manner sucks, princess.”
She pinches the soft skin on the inside of his bicep and he yelps, glaring at her balefully.
It’s not like he wants to be here, sitting on the uncomfortable examination table in the ER, shirt off, and paper crinkling noisily beneath him each time he so much as breathes. No one ever wants to be in the ER, leaking blood all over the place because they were fucking stabbed in a mugging gone wrong, not even if the opportunity lends itself to a bout of truly morbid humour.
Just this morning he was telling his sophomores about the Ides of March and now here he is, living his own version of it. Again, he would be laughing except- stab wound.
Clarke is bent over his side, wisps of blonde hair escaping her braid and looking platinum in the harsh fluorescent hospital lighting. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she goes over the cut with antiseptic, and he hisses once more.
“That hurts,” he grunts, and then flinches again when she goes back in with another piece of gauze. Most of the bleeding has stopped, but there’s still a lazy trickle that she has to keep wiping up intermittently.
Below the cut you will find my personal (and very sloppy) summary of chapter 145 with some pictures. There’s uhh… spoilers and stuff (duh) so be careful XD
Please take what you read here with a grain of salt. As a disclaimer I am not, nor have I ever been, particularly proficient in Japanese. I am still learning myself, so this is in no way a professional job. This is also my interpretation of the chapter, so even that could differ from someone else’s. But, all this being said, I hope you enjoy the chapter :D