Nightshift 50: South of the Institute (Road to Doyleton)
[From here]
Eventually, the wall at his side turned sharply to the left and he followed suit, outlining the building toward the road ahead. The ground was still rocky here, less so than to the west of the institute, but it wouldn't have been able to stop him either way. The ache in his legs had morphed into a hot, rhythmic pounding that struck with every sprint forward, and the slide and crackle of loose rocks and dirt, displaced by the leather of his shoes, became more and more associated with the hurt. His left hand tightened around the cue, keeping it level to his waist as he ran in order to keep from hitting that too against the ground and losing his balance.
Soon enough, rock gave way to fog-covered road and the path became smoother. Good. That meant he could run faster.
Perhaps now wasn't the time for self-reflection, but the Guild Head couldn't help himself. How many times had he found himself in a situation like this, running through the fog and the dark, no matter his own injuries or thoughts on the matter, for the sake of someone else? If not for the death of another, then for the life of one other? How many nights had he stayed awake, pursuing what trails he could find of his Lord, no matter what or whom was in the way? How many miles had he run doing this exact same thing, how much sleep had he lost and energy he had been drained of in search of his reason for being?
Hah. The calculation was probably too high to measure anymore. But that was fine. If it meant that this time he would save him... Venom would run forever.
The pain in his legs began to blossom into his sides. He pushed himself further. The pain wasn't enough to stop him anymore. Nothing was.
Eventually, the wall at his side turned sharply to the left and he followed suit, outlining the building toward the road ahead. The ground was still rocky here, less so than to the west of the institute, but it wouldn't have been able to stop him either way. The ache in his legs had morphed into a hot, rhythmic pounding that struck with every sprint forward, and the slide and crackle of loose rocks and dirt, displaced by the leather of his shoes, became more and more associated with the hurt. His left hand tightened around the cue, keeping it level to his waist as he ran in order to keep from hitting that too against the ground and losing his balance.
Soon enough, rock gave way to fog-covered road and the path became smoother. Good. That meant he could run faster.
Perhaps now wasn't the time for self-reflection, but the Guild Head couldn't help himself. How many times had he found himself in a situation like this, running through the fog and the dark, no matter his own injuries or thoughts on the matter, for the sake of someone else? If not for the death of another, then for the life of one other? How many nights had he stayed awake, pursuing what trails he could find of his Lord, no matter what or whom was in the way? How many miles had he run doing this exact same thing, how much sleep had he lost and energy he had been drained of in search of his reason for being?
Hah. The calculation was probably too high to measure anymore. But that was fine. If it meant that this time he would save him... Venom would run forever.
The pain in his legs began to blossom into his sides. He pushed himself further. The pain wasn't enough to stop him anymore. Nothing was.