[It's fairly early in the morning when Sigmund comes stumbling into town. To say he's in bad shape would be a severe understatement. He's got several nasty gashes, some thankfully starting to scab over, some not, most of them bandaged with what he could rip off his undershirt without getting his armor off. The side of his cuirass is dented in a way that guarantees broken ribs underneath it. He seems dazed, and his eyes are a little glassy, both from blood loss and... something else. Everything looks wrong to him, although less wrong - more subtly wrong? - than hours ago. Yesterday? He's not entirely sure. Probably only yesterday.
His breathing is shallow, and he can't move more than twenty or thirty feet at a time before he needs to crouch down and rest. Despite that, he's making this trip take twice as long as it would otherwise by refusing to go straight through town, and instead moving furtively and sticking to sheltered, out of the way areas when he can. There's something of the injured wild animal about him, and he'll react about the same if approached.
He's having trouble thinking straight, but he knows he needs... something. Things to clean his sword and armor, right. Edward would be upset if they... if they... Edward would be upset. So the smithy will be his first stop. If no one's there, he's leaving them one hell of a mess for later. Sorry 'bout that. The tipped rack and general filth were an accident, promise. With that taken care of, he'll be intent on heading for his house. At least it's a short walk now.
He just needs to rest for a while. Really. Everything is under control.]
[Written, shakily, much later in the day]
The creature that was in the village yesterday has been dealt with. Those who were attacked may rest now.
(OOC: Aftermath of this.)
His breathing is shallow, and he can't move more than twenty or thirty feet at a time before he needs to crouch down and rest. Despite that, he's making this trip take twice as long as it would otherwise by refusing to go straight through town, and instead moving furtively and sticking to sheltered, out of the way areas when he can. There's something of the injured wild animal about him, and he'll react about the same if approached.
He's having trouble thinking straight, but he knows he needs... something. Things to clean his sword and armor, right. Edward would be upset if they... if they... Edward would be upset. So the smithy will be his first stop. If no one's there, he's leaving them one hell of a mess for later. Sorry 'bout that. The tipped rack and general filth were an accident, promise. With that taken care of, he'll be intent on heading for his house. At least it's a short walk now.
He just needs to rest for a while. Really. Everything is under control.]
[Written, shakily, much later in the day]
The creature that was in the village yesterday has been dealt with. Those who were attacked may rest now.
(OOC: Aftermath of this.)
[Good evening, House 32. Your wayward hero has returned to you after his quiet vacation right off of his mortal coil, all expenses paid by the Dreadknight. Or rather, he has been returned, and is sitting propped neatly up against the front door with his also wayward boot in his lap.
How odd.
But closer inspection might explain it, as he seems to have somehow bruised all of his knuckles, as if he was punching walls for the last few hours. Or faces. Faces are always a possibility. If the Malnosso are keeping a file on him, it probably says, "CAUTION. Subject is violent and belligerent. Keep restrained or sedated at all times." It would also reveal that he is not unconscious. He's just... having a little trouble coming to terms with the way the ground is moving. So he reaches up and knocks on the door, softly at first, but if he has to keep trying, it'll get louder every few minutes as his arm stops feeling like Halgitian jelly.]
Edward. Edward.
[He's only sitting here until his legs remember that they have bones in them. He'll drag his own drugged ass into the house if need be, thanks.]
( Written, Some Hours Later // Private to Leonid )
How odd.
But closer inspection might explain it, as he seems to have somehow bruised all of his knuckles, as if he was punching walls for the last few hours. Or faces. Faces are always a possibility. If the Malnosso are keeping a file on him, it probably says, "CAUTION. Subject is violent and belligerent. Keep restrained or sedated at all times." It would also reveal that he is not unconscious. He's just... having a little trouble coming to terms with the way the ground is moving. So he reaches up and knocks on the door, softly at first, but if he has to keep trying, it'll get louder every few minutes as his arm stops feeling like Halgitian jelly.]
Edward. Edward.
[He's only sitting here until his legs remember that they have bones in them. He'll drag his own drugged ass into the house if need be, thanks.]
( Written, Some Hours Later // Private to Leonid )
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chasethestars
chasethestars