Death

He stopped just two steps from the door because he felt a curious warm sensation in his chest. When he looked down, he stared in amazement at the head and part of a shaft of an arrow protruding from the center of his chest. The warm sensation was that of his own blood, he suddenly realized, that was beginning to mark his clothing red. Even after all the times he had helped others in the same situation, he simply failed to remember what he needed to do to help himself. He knows he must do something, he just can't remember what. He briefly thought of why he didn't feel any pain. There is an almost lack of feeling, in fact, when he suddenly realized that he was on his knees, not recalling when he actually fell. Reaching up to break off the head, he seemed devoid of his usual strength, and unable to break the shaft. As if through someone else's ears, several rooms away, he could hear other arrows bouncing off the stone around him. Feeling anger at himself for not being able to make it to the relative safety of the next room, the shaft of the arrow suddenly broke. The man reached behind him, and grasping the other end of the shaft, pulled the arrow free. He began to crawl toward the door, for some reason his legs refused to obey him, when the edges of his vision began to grow dark. It was such as his pursuers found him, lying on his chest, bloody, with a bloodstained arrow grasped in his hand, deep in the rigors of death.

I hoped you enjoyed. Now, I only need to make up a name for this guy, where he was going, where he was, who was chasing him, and why. Then I'd have a decent story. Which basically means, I have nothing. Yay.