A reading of a short story written for the character Aatrox in League of Legends
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US Midwest- Chicago, Great Lakes)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
darkness. The breath I cannot take plagues me. It is an emptiness in my lungs and throat. As if I had stopped mid breath and then held my lungs cruelly waiting. My mouth opened throat hollow, unable to pull in air. My chest, the horrible tension of my forex. My limbs and muscles refused to move. I cannot breathe. I am choking. The pressure builds the stillness spreads to my chest and limbs. I want to scream to tear my face to whale. But I'm trapped. I cannot move. I cannot move darkness. I must remember. I must remember the battle. I lost control. It was foolish. The mortals formed and ranks against me. I crashed into them, drank from them. The temptation was too great as that reap they re forge their flesh into a better approximation of mature shape. Desperately, I consumed more and more, hoping for the briefest echo of what I once wasn't said. Like a fire. I burned too quickly, destroying even my hosts form darkness. It was raining when we fought off the mud and filth. Cover me. What if I've been for thousands of years trapped in this prison horror of that idea? feeds my panic. The battle is ending. I can feel it. I must will my form upright. I must it must. I have no arms or legs. The darkness binds me like a cocoon. No, I will myself a break. But I can't know if it is working. I cannot know anything but the darkness. Please. Let's some mortal find me. Please. I beg the darkness endlessly. But the humiliation of my please answered only was silent but that I feel immortal nearby. I have no eyes, no ears. But I could feel his approach. He is fleeing from adversaries. It must try to defend himself. He must grasp me. Can he see me? He could run past me. I would be left here. I feel his hand grip this form and and his consciousness opens to me. I burrow into him, pulling him down. I'm like a drowning man thrown into the sea by a shipwreck, dragging myself to the surface by clawing past my fellows. What's happening? The mortal screams. But he is silenced by the darkness, the endless darkness. I just escaped and I have eyes. I can see the falling rain, the muck, the blood of the slaughtering field in front of me Stand to weary nights with spears. I cut them apart and drink in their forms, re crafting this body to my needs. They are weak. I must move quickly. I must find a better wielder. A better host around me are only the dead and dying. I hear their souls retreating from this world. The fighting has not ended Its moved inside the city walls by force menu shape limping, crawling towards the sounds of battle retorted that our host I roar but none triumph, never in triumph. I will drink from that city but I will achieve only a grotesque mockery of my former glory. I was shaped by the stars and the purity of my aspect. I was light and reason given shape. I defended this world and the greatest battles ever known. Now blood and Pickard drips from the stolen fleshes. It decays muscles and bones struggled, tear and protest the abomination I have become. I take a breath. No, a trucks, I say, my voice wet and echoing off the dead that surround me. We will go onward and dot word and dot Lord, until the final oblivion comes