The cold bit into the center of his being. It seemed that it was always there, seeping deeper into his soul every new cycle. Physically he still looked like a fit man in his prime but the feeling of age and emptiness settled in a little more snugly at every awakening.

How long had it been since this hell began? As his body began to slowly return to functioning, he cracked his eyes and stared at the wall. In the dim light coming from the hallway he could just barely make out the marks that covered the grey rough-cut stone. Each mark was for one awakening, which after the snows had finally melted meant one year. He had stopped making them a while back, when he realized he had probably forgotten enough marks to make the count worthless and that he wasn’t sure how long he had skipped while everything was covered in snow year round. He had also run out of space.

Drawing a deep shaky breath, Richard started to go through what he called ‘the awakening cycle’. Begun by twitching, stretching and moving his arms and legs he got the blood flowing and took deep long breaths to slowly begin to warm up. While his body sluggishly moved, so too did his mind.

He lazily focused inward on the space in his thoughts where the Arcstone connection nestled. It was there, like it always was - a part of him after all this time. In the beginning it was vibrant and alien to his senses, but over the long years he had begun to understand how it worked. He had learned to nudge the connection and integrate it into his magical field more fluidly, so it was no longer jarring and strange, but felt comfortable and almost like a friend.

His introspection was cut short as his body began to send urgent signals into his slowly awakening mind. He really had to take a piss.

“Damn it all, I knew I should have gone before I laid down.” Richard mumble-whispered brokenly to himself.

Grunting, he tried to hurry his body’s awakening along. His legs and arms were still at the almost uncomfortable stage of pins and needles. He might be able to get up, even without being able to feel very well.

He coughed a little, his throat dry, and knew immediately that had been a mistake. The extra pressure turned ‘urgent’ into ‘imminent’ and he tried to sit up.

“I am not pissing myself again!” He growled angrily, and surged upwards like a drunken man. He slung his feet over the edge of the cold slab of rock he was reclined on and winced as his body protested this fast movement. A tiny bit of adrenaline was just what he needed to get his body to respond.

He scooted upwards towards the ‘head’ of his ‘bed’ and, leaning on the wall for support, managed to make it to his feet and begin the shuffling stumble-walk towards the pot in the corner.

He kind of… wedged his face into the corner of the room, scraping his cheek a little on the markings on the wall, and fumbled with his threadbare waistband. He was almost too late, but made it in time.

As he stood there, his whole twitching and aching body leaning into the corner to prop it up, face smashed so he couldn’t see, he began to chuckle a little. It would look ridiculous, he was sure. With his faded and threadbare clothing, no shoes, hair probably all over the place, pissing like a horse into a little pot in the corner, he could only imagine what it would have looked like to an observer.

He began to picture it in his mind: the intrepid explorer that had found the ancient fortress and delved it’s depths. The outer walls had long fallen into little mounds with trees and moss but the inner keep still held its form, if barely. The imaginary explorer would see the worn runes and cracked but still sound walls, with the dark opening in the side where the door had once stood.

Moving deeper the explorer would eventually stumble upon the only room with anything in it. Full of empty crates and worn down equipment, he would finally lay his eyes on a man out of time… wedged into the corner of the room and giggling like an idiot with his pants around his knees while peeing in a pot.

The little sob that escaped his mouth caught Richard by surprise.

“Ah, if only. If only.” He said with a longing tone.

His body was beginning to feel more normal as he finished up and stood. He didn’t move for a little while, as his mind spiralled down. The crypt-like quiet and stillness that covered the grey walls felt like a force that made it hard to move or breathe. His automatic query to the Arcstone had told him that, yet again, it had been time that had woken him, not activity.

When the heavy sound of silence was broken by a light breeze and the sounds of moving leaves through the hallway, it brought his thoughts back to the surface.

With a heavy sigh, Richard turned and took stock of what remained. The only supplies still usable were the things that didn’t spoil. Battered mail shirts, faded gambesons and cracked leather boots and belts were all stacked neatly. The rack that held the two remaining battle blades and an array of worn knives looked like it could use some attention soon. His pile of cookware was in a corner; worn but serviceable. The hides and tools created from his hunts were all bundled in the far corner.

He stared at the crate that had held the hard tack all those years ago and yet again wished he could find some grains. What he wouldn’t do for fresh bread..

He stumble-walked over to the large chest, and opened it with a loud creak. Some lye soap that he had made cycles ago, a small hand mirror, and the remaining clothes he had. Only one full uniform was in any state other than patched and faded. He had made sure to store it well in the cedar chest at the very beginning, but barely glanced at it as he picked out his shaving kit and the soap.

Strapping his more worn blade on his belt and grabbing his favorite skinning knife and water skin, he walked barefoot out of the room.

It was his routine. This time a little broken by his bladder, but an important part of awakening. He needed routine to keep him moving.

As he walked down the empty hallway, he saw the bright sunlight streaming into it where the door had once stood. Halting for a time to let his eyes adjust, he began to reach out with his senses. The fortress was still intact, it’s runes faded and old but holding well enough.

Outside, past the mound that used to be the wall, he could sense some small eddies in the natural mana.

“They don’t seem big, but I should still take care.” Richard mused. The monsters that plagued the area were usually driven away from the fort due to the powerful enchantments that were still active and fueled from the ley line through the Arcstone. They hadn’t been designed to last as long as they had, however, and sometimes there were failures which smaller monsters could squeeze through.

Drawing his weapon he gave it a once-over. It was scratched and worn but still serviceable. He sent some energy into it and checked that all of the runes still lit up. The standard battle blade was a serviceable short sword, but that was not it’s main function. It was used as a focus for battle mages for targeting and directing their internal energies or a place to ‘hang’ completed spells so they could be quickly activated with a command word.

Nodding his head, Richard walked out into the sunlight. The air was still a little crisp and chill, but spring had obviously arrived with the green plants and smell of pollen in the air.

The stony ground gave way to dirt as he moved along the old path out of the fort. There was a light breeze moving the trees around, so it was difficult to hear anything. He stalked along the path, heading towards the water and the first of the possible monsters he had picked up.

As he cleared the tiny hill that used to be a wall, he spotted the first little beastie.

A small thing. Maybe a mutated rabbit? Richard thought. It was about the size of his torso with four legs and a head. The rear legs were longer, with some nasty looking claws. The head had longer ears, hence maybe a rabbit, but its eyes glowed a faint orange, and it had sharp teeth.

Currently it was just sitting still near a tree, its long ears slowly moving around and listening to its surroundings. Richard barely made a noise as he got close enough to strike.

Leveling his blade, he wrapped an invisible line of energy from his body through the center and launched a silent force spell towards the monster. The monster’s head suddenly turned into a fine red mist, and the body dropped to the ground twitching slightly. Richard kept his head on a swivel as he moved towards the corpse.

“Mmm, looks like breakfast.” He mumbled, stooping down to pick the corpse up by it’s rear feet while avoiding the sharp claws.

The small river, which had started out as a little stream years and years ago, was just a few minutes further through the trees. Richard didn’t notice any more monsters on his short trek, and once he arrived he began to skin and process his kill. The hide was large enough to maybe make a boot or a hat out of, and there didn’t seem to be any obvious mutations that would make the meat inedible. A lucky find.

After a quick wash in the river, Richard took out his little hand mirror and got ready to shave while his clothes dried on a rock.

Tired, old blue eyes looked back at him on a youthful face. His skin was a little pale from his recent awakening, but his long light brown hair framed a slightly tanned face with a strong jaw, hidden by a light beard. He used his straight razor to slowly scrape the beard away only cutting himself once or twice. It would heal by the time he finished washing his face off, so he didn’t even twitch. The razor could use some stropping, but he had forgotten before he left.

Packing his things away in the small pouch, he dressed and began the trek back home. He was half way back when he heard something crashing through the trees to the right.

He dropped the monster corpse and drew his sword right before a larger monster burst out from the foliage, growling and streaking straight for him.

Richard cursed himself for not paying attention and tried to leap out of the way.

The new monster, which seemed to be some brand of felhound, flew past him as he rolled back to his feet. It had almost managed to slice his leg, which would have ruined one of his last pairs of pants!

Richard quickly channeled force into his blade and swung it desperately towards the creepy looking thing. The extended force blade took both of the creature's front legs as it swung back around.

Nasty smelling blood with a greenish tint spilled out of the stumps as the monster howled and fell to the ground. Richard quickly sent a bolt of energy through its head and it stilled.

Quickly scanning his surroundings and also sending a pulse of mana around to see if there were any others nearby, he gathered his breakfast and pulled it away from the toxic blood.

This new monster was more mutated than the rabbit had been. It’s body was lumpy and there were bone spurs along its back poking out of scaly skin the color of rock. The legs were much thicker than a wolf’s and all four of its feet had sharp claws. It had a tail that had barbs on the end and its face had been twisted with sharp teeth poking out.

Richard sighed, angry at himself. These small monsters were a trivial threat, but they were fast and he hadn’t been paying attention. He only had three other pairs of pants, so losing these would have been terrible. He probably should have changed into his leathers, but this awakening had put him off his groove.

The now dead felhound, or whatever it was, was obviously one of the toxic variants, judging from the smell of the blood and the strange scaly skin. He would have to come back later and burn it up. For now, he was hungry and wanted to change into his leathers just in case.

As he slowly made his way back home, his mind just now began to truly wake up. He would get some food and then begin his normal routine soon enough. He foraged for some edible roots and herbs as he walked to add to the ‘rabbit’ meat.

As he cooked up breakfast, he couldn't help but sigh. How he wished his little dream explorer had been real.