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MOVED → apscondita
I’m not a hard man to convince. I’m gonna move Dismas over to my multimuse! I’ll be continuing all my threads from over there from here!
YOU CAN FIND HIM RIGHT HERE FROM NOW ON ALONG WITH A POTENTIAL SECOND DD MUSE I’M GONNA ADD SOON!
MOVED → apscondita
I’m not a hard man to convince. I’m gonna move Dismas over to my multimuse! I’ll be continuing all my threads from over there from here!
YOU CAN FIND HIM RIGHT HERE FROM NOW ON ALONG WITH A POTENTIAL SECOND DD MUSE I’M GONNA ADD SOON!
So... who would blame me if I moved Dismas over to my multimuse and just continued all my threads there like nothing happened?
Maybe making a new blog just before I’m about to take a vacation for a week wasn’t the best idea, but I’m having a ton of fun here! I promise I’m getting to my replies --- but I’ve just spent the last few days getting things together for my trip to visit friends and settling other business before I leave. I’m gonna crank out a few replies tonight and tomorrow before I disappear on Saturday, so look forward to that and I’m gonna be looking to plot with some people when I get back!
🗡AYA
ah, there it was. the characteristic ache, the whining, the pleading for blood. were she the woman she’d been when she first entered university, she’d scoff at the idea of human bloodsuckers. this hamlet, though, had a funny way of putting her at the heart of a horror novel. was she the helpless damsel or the harrowing doctor? only time would tell, truly.
“ other bleeding people don’t have the same condition as you, so they aren’t as high on my list of people to study. besides, you aren’t even bleeding anymore, don’t whine so much. ”
she was careful to store the blood she’d drawn in a vial, marking it with a number before making a note of it in her papers. the scratching of her pen was the only noise besides his groaning for a moment.
“ we found bottles of blood in the courtyard. perhaps…if i can remember where we stored them, i could bring them here, see how you react to them. ”
she was speaking to herself more than anything. documenting the different stages of the disease was a key part in figuring out how to cure, or at least diminish, the symptoms of it. it was simple to pack her bag for the moment ; she’d just have to ask the nurses where the medical provisions were kept.
“ don’t move. i’ll be back in just a moment. ”
Dismas rolled his eyes at her argument that he was on the top of her list to study. He was not quite fond of being a test subject. He watched her work for a moment until his vision was getting slightly blurred. He grunted, settling for closing his eyes again. The mention of bottles of blood was of interest to him, however.
He wanted to command her to get them immediately and bring them for him. That was the only thing he desired and if she were to stand in his way, so be it. If he could just get a little blood, he would be set ( or so his infection had convinced him ). Yet, it appeared she was completely willing to seek it out of her own accord without further prompting.
He fidgeted in place, already anxious to get his mouth on those bottles. “Fine, I won’t move.” He promised although he knew that was going to be a hard task now that his mind was solely concentrated on the prospect of something to soothe his craving. With a sigh, he settled for pushing himself up from his lying position on the bed. The pain from his injuries were manageable at this point, allowing him to at least move that much.
🗡ROOK
It was only a week ago that Reginald was searching for a new purpose for his life. He had long since abandoned the lifestyle of a knight had spent the last couple of years roaming the land in search of adventure. He had gotten word of a village that was in desperate need of help, and within a few days he was travelling via stage coach to the village.
It was only upon arriving at the village did he realise the severity of the situation: the village was in ruins, with only the tavern and the abbey somewhat intact. Whatever troubles the village had were clearly taking its toll, and it was a wonder that it hadn’t been abandoned.
“I’m here to help,” he said, turning so that he could face the man. No one had been in the barracks when he had arrived, so he had chosen a bed that was hopefully vacant. “I arrived with some others a few hours ago. I take it you’ve been here for a while now?”
Dismas adjusted his belt, giving the man a once over glance. His hidden smirk growing a bit amused with the knowledge that they seemed to have received a new muscle to their ranks. He’d reserve his judgement of his sustainability until he saw whether the poor man crawled his way back up from the dungeons after his first expedition. It wasn’t uncommon for them to have their ranks thinned not long after receiving them. It was the grim reality of his work, but one Dismas had sadly been growing acquainted with.
“This place needs a lot more than help.” He idly scratched at his cheek, feeling the rough stubble he’d accumulated from being stuck in the sanitarium for a few days. He could do with a shave soon if he could remember where he put his straightedge around here. An offhanded chuckle left his throat, “Aye --- been here the longest aside from the holy man you’ll see tromping around. The heir brought us along when he first came to this place.”
He stood up, closing the distance between he and the new recruit. He tugged his neckerchief down a tad, revealing an actual smile however small it was. “But, you’re welcome here nevertheless.” He offered his arm out to shake the man’s hand. “Name’s Dismas, my good man.”
🗡AYA
“ thatta boy. ”
she said it offhand as she crowded closer to him to draw blood from him, even humming a tune as she worked. what a strange woman – she could understand why some others thought her eerie. her work was her life! why couldn’t she enjoy it?
it did only take a moment for her to do, her hands quick and careful as she could make them without compromising her work. she couldn’t risk sticking herself, though that was almost a guarantee to getting infected herself…another day, perhaps. she didn’t know what else might be lingering in his blood.
“ there. all done. i told you it’d take just a moment. ”
she stepped away again, setting the syringe down to pick up her pen once more. “ how do you feel now? it should be taking effect…i can more accurately tell how your infection is affecting you under the pain of those burns. ”
“Don’t thatta boy me.” Dismas chided, keeping his glance downward as she worked. He didn’t make any sudden movements at the prick, but his face showed the effects of it nonetheless. He hated the feeling of it prodding his veins. Give him a shot to the foot any day. His brows knit together at her humming. He could only bring himself to scoff in disbelief. What a woman she was --- so casual with this kind of work. Then again, that was the pot calling the kettle black. He was the man who would happily whistle while digging through the pockets of dead coachmen along the road before his gun was done smoking.
“All done until you need another sample.” He was quick to add. He wasn’t looking forward to the next round of needles either. He rubbed at the spot when she left him. “I still feel horrible.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he rubbed the heel of his palm against them. While indeed the pain from the burns were much more faint, it didn’t end all his troubles.
“Would it kill you to find some sorry fuck somewhere else in this hellhole that’s already bleeding? I’m sure it wouldn’t be too fuckin’ hard. I just need a little blood. Anything to stop this damn headache! My throat burns. Just ONE taste is all I need.”
🗡AYA
“ it’ll take one second as long as you hold still. ” she deadpanned a bit. ugh, she was always dealing with the difficult ones. even audrey, for all her understanding that medical assistance was necessary, was squeamish when it came to getting pricked for a moment.
“ you’ll hold still or i’ll have them restrain you, and i know you won’t like that. ” her annoyance had bled through to her tone as she spoke, much sharper and shorter with him than she had been before. “ you are the only person in the hamlet showing signs of the infection and if i’m to find a way to fix you in the long run, you’ll have to be stuck a few times. i don’t want to have to sedate you every single time. ”
she was sure there were others infected but they were managing themselves much better than he had, so he was what she had to work with.
“ last warning. i’m getting that sample whether you like it or not. ”
Dismas had already been reeling from the aftertaste left in his mouth from the painkiller she had given him. “Ugk---” Well, if the painkilling aspect of it was half that of its retched taste, he’d be set. He caught the annoyance in her tone and sneered, wanting so desperately to make a comment. He was smart enough to bite his tongue.
He narrowed his eyes at her when she threatened restraints again. “If I wanted to be bound and stabbed, I’d find myself at the brothel.” He shot back, sticking out his arm in defeat as he averted his eyes to let her do her business. If this is what it would take for her to leave him alone, so be it. “If this isn’t my lifetime of sins catching up to me, I don’t know what it is.” He dryly scoffed.
He felt his head beginning to cloud again, although the pain in his legs was beginning to subside for a moment. His free hand moved to his forehead, rubbing to try and scare away the nagging thoughts for blood.
The swine skiver is fucking bad
WARNING: loud and bright at the end (and this is like 4 seconds long)
🗡AYA
he vowed not to harm her and so she stepped closer, shifting the vial in her hands before handing it off to him. she had more stashed away ; her personal lab was capable of pumping it out whenever she wanted it to. once she handed it off to him, she stepped away again, robes sweeping the floor as she moved back to her table.
his question was a valid inquiry. it took effort to get them to leave her alone with him, but she was capable of protecting herself. she had her knives and her poisons…if she thought he was a danger to her, she wouldn’t conduct the research at all.
“ i’m aware you could hurt me if you wished, but you won’t. ” she pushed her things aside, unrolling one of the kits she carried with her. it was lined with scalpels, syringes with shiny needles – a doctor’s kit like you might find in the city.
“ you won’t hurt me for several reasons. one: you know you would never escape this sanitarium in one piece. two: you know the kinds of things i can do in self-defense – and three: i like to think you’ve still got some semblence of sanity in you. ”
she lifted one of the needles to inspect it before turning on her heel.
“ drink that and hold still ; i need a sample of your blood. ”
There was a grim chuckle that came from his lips at her assessment of why he wouldn’t hurt her. “Foolish of you to think I’ve had any sanity since coming to this place at all.” Well, even in this diminished state, he still had that same sense of humor about him. A coping mechanism, perhaps.
He took the vial from her, keeping his movements steady as to reassure her that he would keep his word. It was an honorable trade --- painkillers for her safety. Yet, for all he knew it was a sedative so she could freely prod at him. At this point, he wouldn’t care so long as he was rendered unconscious first.
And at the sight of a needle when she turned back to him, he was hoping more and more that he was correct. He could stand being bashed with the shield of an undead soldier, pierced by a fish’s spear, or even sliced by a beastly pigman --- but needles always got to him. There were reasons he feared doctors that stemmed from when he was young, even if he wasn’t fortunate enough to visit any medical professionals since his youth.
“Like hell you need a blood sample! Get that shite away from me before I fill it with your blood, y’dalcop.” He grimaced, swallowing the vial she’d given him in one fell swoop lest he want to taste the horrid concoction for all it was worth.
( hey @ my lovely mutuals --- you should hit me up for my discord so we could be pals and talk about how stupid Dismas is and I can bitch about how the Necromancer Lord can kiss my ass !! )
🗡AYA
his threats were ignored as she worked, pen scratching new observations into the paper as he struggled to sit up. she tsk’d him for pulling at the bandages on his shoulder, even going so far as to wave her hand at him.
“ the fact that you can feel at all is a good sign. no permanent damage…stop that picking, though. i’ll have them bring me the leather straps they use for the more unruly patients if you don’t. ”
in a show of good faith, however, she stood from her seat to cross the room to the little worktable she’d set up in the corner, picking through the vials for a moment before choosing one from the end and moving back over to dismas, though she stood a good arm’s length from him.
“ this is my most effective painkiller i’ve managed to concoct. if you don’t try to tear my arm off once i step close enough, i’ll let you have it. it even works for our leperous friends, so i’m certain it will make you feel better. ”
her deadpan tone hopefully covered the amount of glee she felt studying him up close. even in his misfortune, it gave her many opportunities to actually have a living subject on her hands. the dead could only offer so many answers.
even if the dead threatened her far less. sigh.
The curse did little for him except make him more angry than usual in this moment --- which was a hard task in and of itself. He was irritated at the sound of pen scratching upon paper. He knew very well that he was the subject of her own personal experiment and of that he was not fond in the LEAST. “The fact I can feel it is a punishment itself.” He grumbled, eyes still covered. “If you bound me, you’ll live to regret it --- I promise you that.” He threatened, but in his current state he was in no mood to even move let alone continue to pick at sore wounds.
Dismas shifted when he heard her move, uncovering his face for a moment to see what she was offering out to him. There was a skeptical look in his eyes, but he was in no position to offer anything that would numb the pain. “Give me the damn thing, I won’t touch you.” He promised with a sigh, the thirst burning his throat. He could feel the itch of addiction to that damned blood crawling beneath his skin, invading his thoughts once more.
He did have another thought, however. “Why is it they leave you alone with me?” He prodded, “Say I snapped your neck while you weren’t looking --- what then?” Perhaps it should be obvious to her that his words didn’t mean they were his intention. His very tone was far too hoarse and weak to speak clearly, so it wasn’t likely he was going to be attacking her any time soon. That was especially true since he knew very well they’d confiscated his gun belt and any other possible makeshift weapons. He might have been a fool, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try something like that at this moment.
After losing my rank 6 Bounty Hunter to a heart attack after retreating from a boss fight, I think I’m done playing for the day because fuck you brigand pounder
Catch me laughing in the Swine God’s face as he hits me for 0 damage yet Wilber almost kills my Houndmaster 3 seconds later because the Ancestor hates me !!
HEADCANON 001.
Subject: crimson curse Verse: main
Dismas is a meticulous man. He is careful with his work, but he isn’t the brightest person on a squad. During an expedition into the Courtyard, he found himself caught up with a Sycophant that managed to pierce him and infect him with the Crimson Curse. Rather than report any illness to the heir, he decided to keep the disease to himself as he only felt thirsty --- nothing that struck him as entirely important.
That thirst was not satiated by water nor whiskey, however. Despite his best efforts, he found himself growing more irritable and the thirst grew to a hunger. Yet, he did not think to place the blame on any potential illnesses that he might’ve caught. He continued on his way for nearly two weeks, but fell more fatigued with each passing day. His fellow companions noted something strange about him, but Dismas was quick to deny any offers of help or suggestions to visit the sanitarium.
Potential new recruits to the hamlet arrived on the stagecoach in what appeared to be the nick of time. While three of them had been accepted to their ranks, there was a lone leper who was denied a place in their barracks. As the man retreated from the center of town to take his leave, Dismas had noticed a ruptured lesion on an exposed portion of his bandaged arms --- blood dripping from the wound. Instincts had taken over for him and he approached the man, offering his help in finding a quicker way back through the old road that avoided having to pay the coachman good coin.
Unwittingly convinced he was getting help from a kind resident of the hamlet, the poor man following Dismas from the walls of the town into the wood of the road beyond where he met his untimely fate. This was the highwayman’s first taste of the Blood his body had so desperately craved from him and the beginning of a very bad habit.
Unbeknownst to the residents of the hamlet, Dismas had managed to hide his addiction from both his companions and the townsfolk. Sadly, his cravings were growing faster than the stagecoach could deliver recruits to their demise. Townsfolk suffered at his hand and his methods were beginning to grow more sloppy with each murder. Soon, he was caught in the act.
The bloodlust he experienced from that latest victim was the only thing he needed to make his escape. Rather than settle and face the consequences of his actions, he decided to prove himself and disappeared into the deep woods. The high he experienced had convinced him he was as strong as a god and was determined to show this strength by venturing into the dungeons by himself --- attempting to fight his way through the weald single-handed.
His hubris won in the end as he fell into the hands of the Fanatic. He fought back, wounding the zealot although he was bound, branded, and placed upon the pyre to be cleansed with flame. The fire burned his skin --- searing away flesh as it climbed up his body. He was convinced of his death until the sharp head of a pickaxe cut away the rope and burlap confining him to the pyre.
Balancing on death’s door, he was rescued from the weald and taken back to the hamlet. He was too weak to protest any treatment and fainted from the pain of it all. When he awoke, he was quarantined in the sanitarium with a plague mask greeting him when he first opened his eyes. It was there he resided until a cure for his curse was found. He bears numerous scars from these events. The Fanatic’s brand marks across his collarbone to his shoulder. Scar tissue from the pyre’s flames are strewn across his body --- concentrated on his legs and torso.
Casually cracks my knuckles as I dive in to flesh out Dismas' Crimson Curse/vampire verse
everyroadends:
Hello new followers — since this is a new blog, there aren’t many of you, but I’d love to start writing some stuff soon so consider this a little plotting/starter call !! Feel free to like this or jump into my IMs so we can get some stuff going !
