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seen from India
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seen from China
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Philippines
seen from Pakistan
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@hisregret
“I look terrible? You should see the other guy. His face got fire all over it.”
@hisregret / from quincey !
“ you, there you are. ”
it’s rare to find the jester outside of her motley garb, but the last expedition has landed her benched for the next week or so to recover from the number of wounds sustained against the bloody brigands hiding in the woods. she scratches idly at a bandage wound around her upper arm, a nervous tic while dealing with the soldier before her.
“ i. . .uh. i wanted to thank you for your help back there. pretty sure that brigand woulda taken my head off if you hadn’t stepped in, and you protected me even though i said some pretty awful things. i get real outta my head out there, you know? you’ve been in that spot before. ”
@hisregret has entered the dungeon!
It wasn’t like the hamlet to be so quiet when there were new recruits about. He hadn’t been present when the stagecoach had arrived. He was locked in the sanitarium with an awful rash on his back following his last expedition into the warrens. That place was wrought with disease and he was surprised he’d gone this long without an extended visit with those wretched nurses. He never liked hospitals --- too many needles and nothing to do except lay in bed lest he want to be barked at by an ugly excuse for a woman threatening to strap him down.
If he sought treatment like that, he’d find himself at the brothel. Luckily, their contractor was benevolent enough to foot the bill of his medical stay. Perhaps he knew Dismas was too cheap to seek the attention on his own without a benefactor --- or he feared that he’d spread disease to the rest of the inhabitants of the barracks. Either way, he had finally been discharged and was already looking to find himself a stiff drink and some more pleasant conversation. First, he needed to stop in the barracks to retrieve the gun belt that was prohibited in the sanitarium.
When he entered the barracks, he looked at the newly claimed beds despite their lacking residents other than a man at the far side of the room. He moved over to his trunk, opening the heavy lock with a key from his overcoat to retrieve his gun belt from inside. He closed the trunk with a bit of force, attempting to gain the attention of the man as he locked it once more. “A fresh face here, old boy?” A grin appeared from behind his neckerchief as he sat on the trunk. He fastened his belt around his waist. “Or just an unfortunate passerby?”
@hisregret !
“Ser Reginald the Shield,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand. “I look forward to working alongside you.”
He hadn’t seen many others around the village: he had guessed that they were either spending their time in the tavern or were in the abbey praying. The few that were around appeared to be training with a man who wore the armour of a crusader: it was likely that he was the man that Dismas was referring to.
He was certain that he would get plenty of time to socialise with the others that were in the village, but first he needed to find out what ailed the village to the point that it was in a state of disrepair.
“How severe is the situation here?” he asked. The more information he gathered, the better of an idea he would have of what he was getting himself into.
Judgement upon one’s handshake. It was strong and confident. It boded well for their future endeavors together. Dismas nodded, taking note that they were men of different worlds. A knight and a highwayman --- stuck in the same mud with their hands stained with blood. What irony the Light brought here to this unholy land. He wanted to laugh at such cruel twists of fate.
“I don’t believe there are words for such a state. Failed experiments, rabid humans as bad as their beasts. . . The dungeons are overrun and encroach upon this town. We need to take them back.” He spoke as if he were simply describing the weather outside. He didn’t want to mention the necromancy or eldritch nightmares. He’d grown numb to these horrors yet remained ever fearful of what lie behind each dungeon door. A healthy dose of fear to keep him on his toes.
He glanced to their surroundings, taking in the wreckage that may have once been a respectable hamlet full of decent townsfolk. At a previous time, he would have sacked this place for all it was worth. Letting the men bleed out on the streets while the women screamed and children cried. Here he was, seeking his own redemption and masquerading as the hero.
He looked back to the man, tone foreboding although it was honest. “For your sake, I hope you have your wits about you, Ser.” The highwayman leveled his gaze at him. “Ghoulish horrors as these want nothing more than our deaths.”
‘ i’m sick to death of everyone telling me how strong i am ’
POETRY STARTERS.
“They speak from what they see, and I would say the same, but as far as I’m concerned, your strength lies elsewhere.”
@hisregret
“So handsome—what keeps bringing you back here? It seems we keep bumping into each other.”
“I will be your beacon of hope against this darkness.” The voice was elegant, graceful and steadfast. This apparition was like a burning white sun that this place desperately needed. Even as the horrors of this land had claimed her life. The ghost of the pale lady and this old warrior had met before. When she was alive, treating the sick and wounded. But she did not blame the man for her death.
“No evil shall befall you in my presence! BEGONE!”
Pure light engulfed the room as the foul creatures cried in horror and pain at such power. It seemed all light flowed from her as the taint seem to crawl back into any shadowy place it could find. When the last of the horde fled did the light dim as before him was the ghostly from of the healer. Hovering over the ruined stones and filth.
“I am glad you are unharmed.” Her voice were like chimes. Filled with a tranquil peace that was so foreign to this land. “Forgive me for not coming sooner. It is...difficult to appear.”
@hisregret
