Male
3
once more into the fray...into the last good fight i'll ever know. live and die on this day, live and die on this day
His feet ached. How long had he been walking? The scenery started to blend together after a while, his pupils dilated, his eyes refusing to focus. Everything around him was just a green blur, really, varying in size from large to small depending on the foliage he was making his way through. Thud. Well-worn leather boots scuffled against the ground. One foot in front of the other. That was all he could focus on. If he just kept walking...
...
Nikolai should have seen the ambush coming. Had it happened during any other time, he probably would have. But the Lurkers had struck when he was deeply ensconced in the dark recesses of his psyche, back bared, scourge slick with crimson and thirsty for redemption. When they struck, he was vulnerable. Not only in body but in mind, and it was a small wonder he had managed to grab his sword and establish a defense. They hit and he hit back, albeit due to his state there was a lot more struggle from the former knight than normal. Fangs and teeth met their mark repeatedly, and for a few brief beats it seemed as if this would be how he would go out. Fitting for someone of his nature, to be snuffed out suddenly and without fanfare.
His sharply honed instincts won out in the end though, and he plunged his sword into the beasts' head and gut until the creatures stopped moving. Silence rushed in and surrounded him, only to be broken suddenly, his ears ringing. It took Nikolai a while to realize he was screaming, chest heaving for breath. He simply stood there for a while, trying to calm down and regain his senses. He had enough of his wits about him to hastily shove his supplies into his knapsack and sling the bag over his bruised shoulder, hissing as it settled against the lash marks on his back...And then started walking. It was probably reflexive auto-pilot that carried him all the way out to Gavril's shrine.
...
The Silver clansman was a vision in red, shirtless and bloodstained. Not all of the life fluid was his own, the thick ichor of monster blood also staining his skin, slacks, and boots...But there were enough wounds, both self-inflicted and otherwise, to make the guess that most of it belonged to the ex-aristocrat. His inherent self-healing had been mending his body just enough to keep him from collapsing due to weakness and blood loss, but as time passed it was becoming harder and harder to remain upright.
Head lolling on his shoulders, he blinked hazily in the direction of the sound of crackling fire. He had to be close now, right? "H..." His soft voice croaked, but whatever he had intended to say was snuffed out as his balanced wavered, and he tipped forward to land with a bodily thud on the ground.
...
Nikolai should have seen the ambush coming. Had it happened during any other time, he probably would have. But the Lurkers had struck when he was deeply ensconced in the dark recesses of his psyche, back bared, scourge slick with crimson and thirsty for redemption. When they struck, he was vulnerable. Not only in body but in mind, and it was a small wonder he had managed to grab his sword and establish a defense. They hit and he hit back, albeit due to his state there was a lot more struggle from the former knight than normal. Fangs and teeth met their mark repeatedly, and for a few brief beats it seemed as if this would be how he would go out. Fitting for someone of his nature, to be snuffed out suddenly and without fanfare.
His sharply honed instincts won out in the end though, and he plunged his sword into the beasts' head and gut until the creatures stopped moving. Silence rushed in and surrounded him, only to be broken suddenly, his ears ringing. It took Nikolai a while to realize he was screaming, chest heaving for breath. He simply stood there for a while, trying to calm down and regain his senses. He had enough of his wits about him to hastily shove his supplies into his knapsack and sling the bag over his bruised shoulder, hissing as it settled against the lash marks on his back...And then started walking. It was probably reflexive auto-pilot that carried him all the way out to Gavril's shrine.
...
The Silver clansman was a vision in red, shirtless and bloodstained. Not all of the life fluid was his own, the thick ichor of monster blood also staining his skin, slacks, and boots...But there were enough wounds, both self-inflicted and otherwise, to make the guess that most of it belonged to the ex-aristocrat. His inherent self-healing had been mending his body just enough to keep him from collapsing due to weakness and blood loss, but as time passed it was becoming harder and harder to remain upright.
Head lolling on his shoulders, he blinked hazily in the direction of the sound of crackling fire. He had to be close now, right? "H..." His soft voice croaked, but whatever he had intended to say was snuffed out as his balanced wavered, and he tipped forward to land with a bodily thud on the ground.
VALÈRE D'ARRAS - let the awkward begin