hello, this is just some raw dialogue (as in, this is how I draft fics - no 'character tags' or much description in-between) for an idea I've thought about ever since I met Vengarl in-game -- I just wanna take him with me to go see how pretty parts of Drangleic are and let him talk a bunch more jhgdj
“Did you ever have family, Vengarl? Forgive me if that’s a sensitive subject - I’m only curious. I can’t imagine the life of a sellsword is very… settled.”
“None that I can recall, no.”
“None at all? Did you not keep… company?”
“You ask dangerous questions, my friend. Ah- Do not look so distressed. I don’t mind much. Thinking back on it… In those days, I likely did. Though it’d be temporary at best. An… exchange, more than anything. With Forossa gone and divided, travelling as I did, doing what I did… I had no desire for such trivial things. I had no friends. No family. My fellow mercenaries did not even dare to bother me for any such thing, unless it was to announce a departure for more killing. The only persistent company was my blade, and my lust for violence.”
“That sounds… rather lonely.”
“I do not feel the same towards it. I think it was only fitting that others kept their distance as they did. Perhaps I was too frightening for most – I do not recall anyone daring to ask for more than a night’s companionship. And even then… I don’t recall it ending well.”
“...I’ve never done anything like that before. Perhaps I’m too much of a romantic, in that regard.”
(chuckles) “The body has its urges, whether you’re a dreamer, a loner, or any mix of all else between the two. You do what you must, at times. Though I suppose… it depends on the person in question.”
“Then how do you- Oh, forgive me,” (she blushes) “I’m growing far too comfortable, I shouldn’t be so rude…”
“Saying such things only piques curiosity. You may speak freely with me as you please. I will let you know if you offend - I will not hold it against you.”
“...It’s just… About urges. You’ve certainly been undead for far longer than I have, yes? I cannot imagine that… bodes well for them. Or you.”
“Ah, well… I cannot fault such a query. It’s not an issue for me, anymore. Though I could feel my body’s presence and existence prior to you killing it, it was… a distant connection. Perhaps more comparable to an instinct - a hunch, more than a feeling. If it still had urges from when it was human - from when I was human… I never realized it. All I could feel emanating from it was hate and violence. Being so disconnected from it for so long only served to make that obvious to me. Its only desire was to destroy and ruin all it came across, in its blind, mad journey.”
“...I cannot imagine what that’s like.”
“Do not trouble yourself with attempting to understand it. I doubt I would have understood it myself, had it not been my fate.”
“...”
“...What about you, wanderer?”
“Hm?”
“Family. Friends. Companions. Or are you, perhaps, as lonely on your journey as I have been on mine?”
(she shakes her head, looking thoughtful if a bit sad) “No. I don’t have a family, I think. I didn’t really have much in the way of friends either until coming to Drangleic, in truth. I always liked to wander, but… When the curse found its way to me, my wandering suddenly had direction. Before, I just wanted to explore the world. Now… I suppose I have a goal in mind. Though perhaps not one of my own choosing.”
“You did not choose this path you’ve set out on?”
“Not exactly. According to the Herald in Majula, many have walked the same path as I am. Some go further than others. Some don’t go that far at all before losing hope. All I know is that I arrived in Drangleic, and have been… nudged, I suppose… in one direction. ‘Seek souls. Larger, more powerful souls. Seek the King, lest this land swallow you whole, as it has so many others.’ That is my sole guidance. Though… That’s not to say I have not still retained my old ways. I still find great joy in wandering… Enjoying the journey itself. Anticipating the destination, but not rushing towards it.”
“I believe that is a very reasonable way to live. Taking time to appreciate the journey for what it is, I mean. I know in the days where I still lived - not branded as Undead - I didn’t do such a thing. I didn't care. It didn’t matter where I went or who I fought for or against… All that mattered was the destination: Spilling the blood of all those who were not the ones who hired me. I may have seen a great many things… travelled to many places… But I cannot remember it all. I didn’t pay attention to it. I didn’t need to, I didn’t have to unless it could prove a useful thing to know in a battle. And even then… I was reckless. Too confident in my strength, despite that confidence not being misplaced. A disadvantage in battle only meant more death and destruction before it was through. Perhaps… That is how I was severed apart like this in the first place.”
With some apprehension that was quickly overcome by a wave of immense lethargy, the Hunter slowly shifted her position sitting on the stone next to the Doll in favour of resting the side of her head in her lap. The dress was much softer than she’d expected, yet embodied how comfortable and cozy it looked… Made with such care. A vague memory crept into her mind, of elaborate dresses and gown, lavishly embroidered corsets and tightly-bound shoes. And yet… the Doll embodied none of this, but felt familiar all the same.
Fingers ghosted over her hair that was exposed after she’d removed her hat, a gentle knocking as the wooden joints shifted together. The Hunter had never been touched in such a way before… not even by her own mother. The Doll constantly pondered if the love she felt for the Hunter was real, but this certainly felt real. The love and warmth radiated off of her, and when it wasn’t with words it was expressed in full within her actions. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a deep breath as she cherished this feeling. If the night was everlasting… She hoped this moment was an eternity.
Had the feeling of safe comfort not been as overwhelming to her mind and senses, the Hunter knew for a fact she would have wept right about now. It had been so, so long since she had last been held in any regard… But this felt almost as if she was being cradled in the Doll’s lap. She curled her knees up towards her chest and let her head sink further into the flouncy, heavy layers of the dress, being able to feel the unnaturally solid legs underneath despite it all. It didn’t bother her though. The Doll didn’t need to be flesh and blood like herself in order to mean anything to her. Too many times, those who shared that trait wanted nothing more but to spite her, and reject her existence.
The Beasts wanted her dead. Blood-drunk Hunters, as well. Even back home where she’d travelled from, she had been shunned - She was a foreigner there, and she was a foreigner here. Very little changed, in that single aspect.
Except…
The Doll leaned over ever slightly, just enough that the fringe of her shawl draped around her like curtains. The Hunter caught herself reaching out to tug one of the edges closer to herself, seeking its odd warmth. Maybe it was simply her own body heat causing it, but it was far from unwelcomed. She met the Doll’s eyes after humming contentedly, and she was spoken to in a near-whisper, “Rest, good hunter. The waking world will still be as it was, when you awaken. Do not worry.”
Somehow, despite not even knowing it herself, the Doll’s words relieved her exact anxiety that was lurking in her heart. The urge to stay busy. The urge to remain useful.
But no, she still was useful. She had a purpose now - a goal to work towards. Good to do. It was more than she ever could have asked for, and despite the nightmares and the evil that threatened to destroy Yharnam… She found herself grateful for it, for had it not been happening, she may have never known this feeling.
Sweet, sweet peace as her thoughts finally slipped her mind, to leave her in an ephemeral state of emptiness… Aside from what she swore was humming resonating within her weary mind.
“The eyes must stay supplanted to the flesh, for if they don’t, well… Surely you’ve seen what happens, dear hunter? All is not as it seems, in Yharnam… Not even the humble pebble.”
I have not stopped thinking about a Bloodborne 'theory' (there's p rock solid (lol) evidence for it imo) I read once that all pebbles are/were actual eyes at one point, and it IS gonna be mentioned in this fic, I stg
(TECHNICALLY unfinished - I didn’t like how it ended up and ran out of ideas and it probably shows hahaha -- but just a heads-up in case it seems abrupt!)
|| JJBA x Bloodborne CROSSOVER (tho I took some liberties to accommodate it lol) -- OC x Canon (again... sort of) || 3579 words || SFW ||
Summary:
A monster - not like any beast previously encountered - has been annihilating every single Hunter that encounters it, next group each seeking it out to avenge their fallen comrades and put an end to the massacre that’s cutting sharply into their already dwindling numbers. Miriam is one such Hunter, but not everything is as straight-forward as it used to be.
“On a night of the hunt... No, on any night -- Nothing out there deserves to live.”
This is the principle she was raised on. To purge the world of seemingly endless filth through her duties as a Hunter, encountering beast after beast, monsters that put fairy tales to grand shame, and even her own fellow Hunters that lost themselves in the madness and the blood. The Master of the League had been right to teach her this from an early age - Nothing out there did deserve to live. If it wasn’t mad now, it would be later - this was an inevitability much like aging was.
Many of her fellow Hunters shunned and condemned the League, and its Master - He was a madman. He’d lost his mind years ago when he earned the title ‘Beast Eater’, he was a loose cannon… He was a fanatic. Ranting and raving about ‘vermin’, which none but members of the League itself seemed able to see for themselves… Were they in the wrong for believing such things? Perhaps not, but they were wrong for being so quick to condemn a man who ultimately, still performed his duties as a Hunter. That was all that should matter.
Miriam was out on this night on a Hunt, but also knowingly walking in the footsteps of her mentor. There was a monster out there that was massacring other Hunters, out of control and with an endless hunger. Only one Hunter ever managed to return, and he went on and on about the spiders in his head - like fingers dancing and tapping inside his skull, feeling something like love for the creature that wounded him and killed his brethren, and being unable to carry out his duties as a Hunter any longer. Beasts appeared and he found himself incapable of mobilizing against them. He claimed he tried, but the spiders in his head forced him not to. That was what the man claimed, anyway.
It was later deemed an act of mercy to put him out of his misery, seeing as he could no longer protect either himself or others, but still ran all the risks that came with being a Hunter. Corruption. This was not the first time Miriam had seen vermin, but it was the first time she’d done so without any of her fellow League members around. The fact she’d been helpless to watch it wriggle and writhe, before skittering away… She should have cared less about appearances and more about crushing it underneath her boot, like a member of the League ought to. It wasn’t as though the whole world didn’t know of her allegiances anyway.
But that regret couldn’t seize control of her quiet anger, as she set out into the Forbidden Woods with a singular goal in mind despite the warnings and protests she’d had to listen to before this. If it hadn’t been an act of vengeance, it would still boil down to something as simple as it being part of her obligations as a Hunter. Whether in-line with the League or not, the motives criss-crossed and overlapped.
Monsters and Beasts had to die. Nothing out there deserves to live.
The only one who had been supportive of her pursuing this path was the Master of the League himself, who’d given her his blessing. He insisted she not go alone, and thus, Miriam travelled with two fellows of the League - brothers, whose names eluded her. It wasn’t important. They’d sworn the same oaths as she had, and that made them brethren in their own right. And if the Master of the League himself had recommended them, she wasn’t going to doubt their capabilities or their worth as brothers in arms against a common enemy.
The woods were a filthy, vile place. Gnarled and twisted both inside and out, aside from the members of the League who idled at the entrance when there’d been more of them, there wasn’t a single human soul left here that hadn’t been corrupted by the scourge that twisted man into beast, and beast into monster. Every creature that was slain on the path to revenge had black, tainted blood. Every humanoid had vermin that wiggled among the viscera and the brain matter, and each one of those vermin had been squashed underfoot with no mercy. Miriam wouldn’t make that same mistake again.
The path, following in the footsteps of the countless Hunters that had come to this forest to die, led into a dark cavern. It was hidden amongst the hills and twisting paths, but it was walked enough that the vegetation could not grow back and the dirt was still freshly tilled and disturbed. The cavern’s entrance was foreboding, the air emerging from it was damp and heavy, the odor pungent and unmistakable: Death.
The trio glanced towards one another in silent questioning, but none faltered or vocalized any disagreements with entering, and so they crossed the threshold that had claimed so many before them.
Perhaps, if they had not been so single-goal-minded… They may have noticed that they were not alone on their trek.
The cavern ended as it widened, a large expanse stretching inside the mountainside, and revealing an altar, hidden from sight but well lit with countless torches and lanterns. While everything around it was crudely fashioned, the lines of the altar were exact and precise. The work reminded her of the statues she’d seen lining the halls in the Healing Church… But these motifs were different somehow. Perhaps focused on a different entity. Surprisingly despite the knowledge of many deaths, there was little evidence of such a thing occurring. A handful of corpses were left on the ground, but no blood and no signs they’d been disturbed.
Just when they were beginning to wonder where the creature in question was, a loud shuffling sound was heard from the entrance. Dirt and rocks being shifted to make way for the large snake-like body that slithered in. The upper-half was that of a man, seamlessly merging into one single limb. Jarring of all, was the fact the upper-half, upon closer inspection, was not all flesh - Only the head and scant parts where skin was stretched over raw bone, remained… Implying most of its functioning insides were contained within the snake-half of its body. The limbs were gangly and long, fingers tipped with razor-sharp nails like claws, the ratty blond hair hung over its face like a veil, but it didn’t block the sight of its massive maw when it let out an ungodly hiss, face splitting apart to reveal additional sharp teeth where there ought not to be on a man.
Its breath was pure poison and death, you didn’t need to be up close to see its foul miasma ebb and flow from its torn lips. They had been expecting a beast, but instead encountered a disgusting hybrid of sorts… a beast with the facade of a man.
All the more reason it had to die.
The brothers by her side only hesitated for the briefest of moments, and drew their weapons once Miriam had done so. More shuffling came from behind them, and Miriam chided their haste. The ‘corpses’ upon the ground were not, in fact, dead. Perhaps that same error was what cost so many Hunters their lives before. From the looks of things, most of these corpses were Hunters once. They stood and stumbled closer until they were about four or five lengths away, before they gripped their bagged heads and writhed, the sound of something squirming within becoming louder and louder until all at once, their heads burst into an endless collection of snakes.
She had seen this before, but her concern was with this new monster they had come across. The man who had gone mad from his conflict with it, had not described it in any detail whatsoever… How he could feel something like love for the horrid beast was beyond her. Perhaps his blood had gone bad and the others had been none the wiser to it?
Four snake-men, and one massive one. The latter appeared to keep its distance, watching and waiting… The brothers vocalized their nervousness to which Miriam retorted sharply, “Focus on the smaller ones. I’ll watch your back.”
It was a horrible command to give, especially when she longed to draw blood. She observed the massive entity longer and realized with a chill crawling up her spine, that it had no eyes. Just gaunt, hollow pockets still covered with flesh where eyes ought to be… It was a mockery and an insult to humanity. A poor attempt to replicate something it could never be. She reached into her pocket to pull out one of her two slips of fire paper… Snakes had a natural aversion to flame, just like any other beast did. Not taking her eyes off the monster, she applied it, feeling the paper against the blade, a resistance to it not unlike that of a match upon its striker. Its head twitched as it seemed to focus in on the blade instead of her, fingers crunching and popping as it flexed them in preparation.
Her attention was taken away from it for a moment when there was a cry from behind her, warning her - She’d turned just in time to see one of the snake men recoil back and attempt to snap at her with the venomous serpents. A thoughtless reflex, she swung the blade the same instant it moved, cutting through the heads like it was nothing and watching them screech and vocalize pain as the human body it puppeted was dragged along in its actions.
The other snake-men had been cut down, but the one behind her had been forgotten for but a moment, and a moment was all it took. It rushed forward with surprising speed, and lashed out at the brother that was closest to it, grabbing it with its elongated and dislocated jaw, his screams barely heard as he was devoured whole in moments. His sibling, horrified, lashed out at the monster at the same time she did, aiming for the soft scales of its underbelly. The snake-thing hissed and slithered back, taking a large, telegraphed slash with its claws. They quickly backstepped and refocused on the beast, keeping a careful eye on its movements and watching how it would lead into an attack, lashing out and taking swings when there was an opportunity to do so. Often, one Hunter would act as the distraction to give the other an opening. Cooperation and coordination were the very foundations of the League.
All the careful plotting, planning, and assessment in the world could increase a Hunter’s chances for survival, but it was not enough to guarantee him protection against death, or random chance. The monstrosity was bleeding profusely from its wounds, but its behaviour abruptly changed - Miriam noticed the switch too late to warn the brother before he was struck immensely hard and thrown against the cavern wall, and instead used his death as an opportunity for herself. Using her last strip of fire paper, changing the sword into its whip form, she could feel her blood boiling from within as she lashed at it. Its thick, black blood splattered, and it seemed to grow more aggressive… but as it did and as more blood was spilled, so did she.
Dodging a swing, then having to quickly tumble out of the way of it seemingly diving at her with its entire body, she stood quickly and swung the chain-whip at its neck with the intent of severing it. It lashed out behind itself with its much too long arms, and clipped Miriam across the chest, tearing the leather and drawing blood. She repeated the action a second time, then a third, until its head was cleaved clean-off. It squirmed and spewed its tar-like blood upon the dark floors - She stepped back when it released one final, foul breath of poison before it appeared to fall limp. After a moment, its body seemed to boil, the snake-tail melting and flattening until only a skeleton remained.
In the center of the pond of blood that had formed, was not one, but three vermin. Coiled up and squirming in place. Without fully catching her breath, she returned the whip to its sword-cane form with a snap upon the ground, and stepped into the ooze, savouring in the delightful crunch as she stepped on each of them, not stopping until they were no longer discernible as things, beyond mush. The smell of metallic blood was overwhelming - she hadn’t realized she’d neglected to fix her face covering when it had fallen down partway into that skirmish. It was no wonder she’d almost lost herself in the heat of the moment. As she did so, she noticed her wound on her chest still wept, though it didn’t bleed as profusely as before. It stung, like someone was pouring ethanol into the wound with no dilution… Something she hadn’t noticed until just now, perhaps due to the adrenaline rush from the fight.
She mourned the loss of her fellow League members, but knew she had to continue on. For what better way to honour their losses than continuing the pledge to eradicate all vermin? She intended to bite her lip, grin and bear it… She had to report back that the fiend that was terrorizing and killing so many Hunters was now purged and gone.
But before she could make it to the entrance to the cave, a deep, husky laugh had resounded from above. Turning her gaze upwards, she hadn’t noticed the large interlocking beams… nor had she noticed the evil, dark presence that resided there. The eyes in the dark sent something crawling down her spine - They were golden, just barely illuminating the being enough that she could catch a glimpse of its toothy smirk from this distance. It slid from its place up above, tail first to gently let itself slink down into view without appearing cumbersome despite its great size.
Another half man, half snake… Though this one was by far much larger. This one didn’t appear to be a product of some sick form of necromancy however - It breathed, and had flesh where flesh belonged. No exposed bone, no hollowness in its face or eyes. No, this one appeared to be quite healthy, if one could describe a beast as such. Even its golden hair was considerably more well-kept than the previous monsters’ had been… though it appeared to move on its own as if it was alive. Bathed and backlit by the torchlight, its pale skin appeared to glow.
Miriam kept a hand firmly upon the grip of the bladed cane as it looked down upon her with a scrutinizing gaze. It slowly slithered around her and around the room as it spoke - it spoke just like a man would… This was not a beast. Beasts and monsters didn’t speak.
“Hmm… You’ve made quite the mess… And made short work of my watchdog. Such a shame… That was the only one that didn’t fall apart within a week’s time.”
‘Watchdog’...? With harrowing realization, Miriam realized that what she and her companions had struggled to kill… Wasn’t even what they’d been hunting in the first place.
She reached behind her, but remembered that she had used up all of her fire paper in the previous fight. She was in no position to find herself in a conflict of that scale again so soon, but it was appearing to be the case whether she liked it or not. She was extremely on edge by how nonchalant and lax this beast appeared to be as it continued to speak in a soft, amicable voice.
“...And here I was under the impression the Hunters would simply give up if I cut enough of them down. It’s a pity.”
It paused behind her, and though Miriam did not keep her eyes off of it, that didn’t stop her from tensing when it abruptly approached and leaned in to observe her, “Let me see you…”
She swung reflexively towards its deceptively handsome face with the blade, but the monster caught it in its own disturbingly human hand, clawed fingers curling around it and pulling it away from her… Though she did not relinquish her grasp and now dangled several feet from the floor. Its golden, slitted eyes stared her down like it was analyzing a painting or something of the sort. It was curious… and its tone betrayed such as its lips parted into a smile, “Ah… I’ve never met a woman who called herself a Hunter before,” He pulled down her face covering and flicked her hat off her head with borderline comedic ease, “Tell me, woman… Why did you come here to die, when you could have had your entire life ahead of you? Or… What remained of it, at least.”
She spat at him, “I don’t converse with beasts.”
“Because you have to, by oath? Or simply because no beast has ever spoken to you before?” Her silence made his knowing smile grow, “I know about your type. I had kin who went down that path in life, before. They must be desperate to send you here, to… what? Slay me?”
The great beast attempted to shake her grip off her blade, before resorting to grasping her by the waist and forcing her to release it, if she wanted to keep her arms attached to her body. As he did so, he observed her closer, eyes darkening as they trailed to her chest, “In your condition… I don’t believe you’ll be much of a threat to me, DIO. But were I to simply send you on your way, well… Who’s to say you would even make it back out of these woods alive? The snakes hunger, and there’s grimmer things out there than I. I doubt very much you want to be devoured by your own kind.”
Her eyes narrowed as she vocalized her confusion on his choice of words, despite this meaning she went back on her word about not speaking to his ilk, “There’s none of my kind out here, beast. You took care of that.”
It shook its head, “No, no. Don’t play coy, little Hunter. Surely you’re aware of the fate that awaits you? You and everyone else touched by the Scourge. I may spread it, but it didn’t originate with me. My condition is somewhat unique in that I'm neither man nor beast… But trapped in the middle regardless. This is what happens when you toy with things you ought to keep your nose out of.”
It cocked its head a touch, “I sought power, and was rewarded with it. But now I’m unable to take one form wholly. …But it’s been a blessing in disguise, for you see… Now I have a member of the League with me. Has your Master ever told you about how he was able to see vermin, little Hunter?”
Her eyes widened - How could this beast, presumably stuck in this cave for however long it had existed, know of such things? Particularly because only members of the League even knew about vermin?
It continued, smile turning twisted and wicked as though it was enjoying this, “Yes, I know all about such things. I was a man once too, you know… So weak and fragile. But you can only see the filth in the world if you partake in such inhuman acts. Your Master can see vermin, but acts of depravity are what made me ascend into what you see before you. It’s a matter of perspective. And from my perspective… You will make an interesting experiment into the effects on Hunters.”
The great beast placed her back onto the ground, but stayed coiled up to be closer to her level, “You see, I seek a means to ascend further. I want to be past this middling ground. I either am, or am not, and I greatly dislike this uncertainty fate has placed upon me. All this time I’ve been killing Hunters when, in fact, perhaps… I should be using them. And if one of you can get this far and come this close to killing me, DIO, well… This is a risk I cannot let fester any longer.”
His hair, still moving about suddenly shifted and rose up like it had a mind of its own. Between the strands that splayed out, it revealed the very thing Miriam had sworn against - Vermin. Every single strand of his hair was host to vermin. It had the audacity to grin at her utter revulsion, “Does this sight elicit fear? Anger? Or perhaps… hopelessness, that there are so many out there on top of what I possess? Your Master is right about one thing - The entire world is filthy. But I seek to surpass that.”
Miriam gave him an incredulous glare, “I saw what happens when men are afflicted with your particular filth. You drive them mad. Strip away their main purpose in life and reduce them to nothing but husks!”
“Ah yes, the lone survivor… I had hoped he would have been enough to discourage further interference from your like, but… Apparently I was mistaken. But that may have proven beneficial for me. Much like the snake parasites you’ve fought before - same as earlier - I have a need for puppets.”
Another rushed one lmao - I originally wanted to just... finish an older smut fic I was gonna write with a snake/naga DIO, but I just haven’t been inspired for it in a long time? So instead I took my obsession with Bloodborne and the daydreams I have while listening to the OST with a Bloodborne/Castlevania crossover, and I applied it to this 8)
minus the castlevania part
Even though it’s unfinished, I wrote SOMETHING, right? That’s what matters, I think. I’m trying not to beat myself up about it :’)
(also yet another one my friend was sad I didn’t lean into a smut/ship aspect with OTL -- I’M TRYING TO BE LESS BORING CUZ THAT’S ALL I WRITE/THINK ABOUT NORMALLY LMAO -- bless u tho <3)
"When our worlds they fall apart
When the walls come tumbling in
Though we may deserve it
It will be worth it"
every time I think of villain character ships, my brain shoots back to this fuckin Depeche Mode song (Halo) because the chorus just hits in all the right places
do u think people would notice if u used the exact same song as inspiration for writing like 4 different fics????
(Favata): “And that’s a humiliation I refuse to take lying down. He’s terrified of your Boss, and I know he’ll be afraid of the consequences. Scarpello didn’t toss me aside and expect me to live. He knows the Boss will come after him, and tried to buy himself some time to weasel himself away like he always does. It’s all he knows how to do. Lie, and con, and scurry away. Throw away a few disposable fools, and disappear… so he can start up a new scheme elsewhere.”
(Illuso): “The Boss would never let that slide. If Sorbet and Gelato got nailed for just looking into that, then he’s sure as hell not going to let your boss slip away.”
(Favata): “He’ll try. And he’ll likely fail. That’s why I want to catch him before your Boss does. I will not be denied my vengeance. I’m alive for a reason. This is my reason.”
(Illuso): (scoffs under his breath) “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You think I could steal a staff from one of those bleeders in the marsh, Boggart?”
“If you feel like dyin’ or drownin’ face-down in a bloody bog, then yeah. Sure. Go for it.”
“Good to know I can rely on your confidence.”
“I’m all confidence, mate. My name ain’t Big Boggart for nuthin’.”
“Right, well… if I make it back with a staff in-hand, guess you’ll need to be coming up with a new name, eh?”
“Ain’t gonna happen.”
“The name or the staff?”
“Both. Not sure why you’ve got this death wish, honestly."
“I’m half-naked without a staff.”
“You got a bloody sword the length of you.”
“If you think I wanna run into one of those multi-limbed bastards again and have to be within arm’s reach to fight it off? You’re an idiot. Plain an’ simple.”
“I’d do it - fisticuffs, even.”
“Because you’re bloody insane.”
“No, I just stay far away from the fuckin’ things in the first place. Like any smart person would.”
“Mine heart is not inlapidated by cruelty, Lord of Londor. Kindness is what has kept my feet firmly planted, and my resolve ever true… time after time, death after death. Londor… Yuria… demanded I reduce myself to a peccant, subservient fool… to allow the death of one I cared for, for mine own ascension."
