Cinderevin

= Cinderevin = Finally, after all these years, Cinder writes down his memoirs. Where do I even begin? Let's just start out with introductions, shall we? I'm Cinderevin Rikan, and, truth be told, I know surprisingly little about my life for someone who's supposed to set it all down in writing. You see, I suffer from a fairly annoying affliction called cytosomnum. It basically means that I slip into what some would call a temporary death every few months. This isn't terribly debilitating, but it does leave a few holes in my memory. Turns out, being dead for several months isn't too good for your brain's functions. Because of this condition, I've started organizing my life into what I call 'lapses'. A lapse begins whenever I awaken and ends whenever a temporary death begins. This is easier, because I'm dead for a good bit sometimes. As far as I know, I've had 5 lapses; although, some of the earlier ones have definitely been lost to my memory. So, I think I'm going to present you with a couple entries from throughout my known lapses. These entries are fairly odd, because I did some complicated magic that seems to have transferred my thoughts and experiences into written words. I am currently trying to figure out how this works, but no luck so far. And, just so you're aware, my personality doesn't distort too much throughout lapses. That's all thanks to cold hard life, my friend.

13/8/21 - As'Der Lapse
A swirl of bitter wind sliced through my coat. I jolted to my feet and took in my surroundings. Ice marched on to the horizon in every direction, a thick, silvery, mirror reflecting my terrified face back at me. I twirled one of my ears as I tried piecing my life back together. I couldn't bring anything back to me at the moment. What had I been doing out here? I was sure I had a life, it was just out of reach. Lowering my arm with a sigh, I wrapped them around around myself, shivering, as another gust cut into my bones. Right on cue, big flakes of snow started drifting down, gathering in a thin carpet on the ice. Abruptly, I started off in an easterly direction, head down against the wind. I had come to the fairly obvious conclusion that I was basically dead if I couldn't get out of the cold. The snow stuck in minute drifts on my hair, and in my thin fur. My fur was doing an excellent job at not doing its job. Having a relatively thin coat was likely some clue to my origins, but that could wait until I wasn't due a visit from hypothermia.

Eventually, I came to an edge. The infinite sheet of ice was actually a fairly thin sheet of ice floating on the ice gray waters of an ocean. Fantastic! I squinted out into the snowy horizon, but I couldn't see anything. Just as well, the frigid ocean would probably kill me in minutes. Glancing to the left, I thought I made out a light. Well, there weren't any better options, now were there? I ran full-tilt at that light, and came across something quite strange. A purple gateway glinted warmly in the light, rimmed in a dark stone. I could only make out small glimpses of the world beyond through the translucent veil, but I had to try at this point.

Throwing myself through the veil, I landed in a world completely alien to the icy visage I had just left. I appeared to be in a massive cavern, red rock made up the floors, walls, and ceiling. Open rivers of lava sloshed through the cave, occasionally tumbling down short drops into lower channels. Most prominent of all though, was the heat. It hit me like a wave as I came through, gently pulling my mind and body down into its sluggish stupor.

I heard a small noise to my right and whirled, my teeth were bared, the posture was exact, everything was perfect, until I invariably slipped. I let out a hiss of pain as I fell onto my tail. From my spot on the cave of the floor, I got a very good look at the figure looming over me.

"You, ok?" he asked, offering his hand.

He seemed a bit taken aback my my antics. I made a dismissive noise, but let him help me to my feet. The person looked a mite more 'prepared' then I did. There were enough weapons and tools strapped to him to give him the look of a particularly dangerous hedgehog. He also seemed dressed for the occasion. That reminded me to look at what I was wearing. I wasn't sure what it was, but it looked fancy. That coupled with my instinctive disdain of this newcomer's clothing and general demeanor, made me feel quite comfortable guessing that, whatever I had been before, I had probably been a part of some sort of higher socioeconomic class.