Anonfilly Darkest Dungeon Thing


                                            >"Hold still, Hahrnet."

                                            "But it fucking hurts..."

                                            >"Ah know...", Plaguebloom replies and grabs your wounded foreleg, "But we need ta stahp the bleeding thar."

                                            >It is indeed bleeding fairly briskly... And also secretes quite a lot of purulence already for such a fresh wound.

                                            >Those damned pigs... They really got you good there.

                                            >Who knows what nasty diseases grow on their infested blades?

                                            >Death waits for the slightest lapse in concentration, it seems... Just one moment of carelessness was enough to allow this to happen.

                                            >Fuck... What were you thinking? You could have waited just a few seconds more to reload your guns, but like always, you underestimated your enemies.

                                            >They aren't as dumb as they may look... There was still some intelligence left in their rotten brains and they used it to strike you while your defences were down.

                                            >Fucking bastards.

                                            "I can't feel it any more...", you stammer, "Does that mean that I'm going to lo-"

                                            >"Nah!", she interrupts you, "Not if we make it back in time."

                                            "But we aren't even halfway through yet."

                                            >"Don't worry, Hornet.", Occult Belle chimes in, "I can already sense the monster's vile presence... It's closer than we might want it to be."

                                            >"See? Ya will be fine. And now please stop fiddling already."

                                            "O-Okay."

                                            >With great care and patience, Plaguebloom bandages your lacerated limb, even using one of her herbal concoctions to disinfect it.

                                            >You know that they are pretty much priceless, so you are very grateful that she wasted one of them on one of your many mistakes.

                                            >"Thar ya go."

                                            "Thank you."

                                            >"No problem. But y'all owe me one!"

                                            "Heh.", you giggle and retrieve your leg, "Of course. How do a few ciders sound?"

                                            >"Pretty good.", she returns your laughter, "Does it still hurt?"

                                            "Can't tell any more... My feeling there is gone."

                                            >"Don't let it trouble you, Hornet." Leperloo joins in, cleaning her giant blade with a dirty rug, "As long as you don't feel it getting suddenly hot or cold, it's alright. It's just a small infection."

                                            "Small? I hope you are joking..."

                                            >"This your first excursion into the warrens?"

                                            "Yes,"

                                            >"Then you would be advised to believe me. Those foul creatures are able to contract far worse diseases."

                                            >Leperloo snorts and shakes her head, readjusting the bronze mask sitting on her face.

                                            >"I've learned that the hard way."

                                            "Okay..."

                                            >"Yeah... Okay.", she monotonously answers.

                                            >An awkward silence settles in and everyone returns to their seats.

                                            >If you could even call those rotting logs seats... You can't wait to return to the Hamlet and sleep in a warm bed.

                                            >Preferably with some easy colt... Or filly. Your preferences are not too strict in that matter.

                                            >Stirring the brown sludge the caretaker dares to call a stew, you take a look around you.

                                            >Plaguebloom is reading in some tome while Occult Belle is drawing strange runes into the dirt with her dagger, chanting in an ever stranger tongue.

                                            >She worships the very darkness you try to defend yourselves from... That you know. But she does it in a weird way,

                                            >A way that somehow benefits you instead of consuming your souls.

                                            >Also she's quite proficient with her weapon of choice, something you didn't expect from a magic user.

                                            >She gutted that Swinetaur with a singular strike... A feat that even your precise pistol shots were not able to achieve.

                                            >Maybe those dark gods aren't so bad after all.

                                            >You sigh and scoop some of the "stew" into your bowl.

                                            >It doesn't smell good and it won't probably taste any better either, but at least it is warm and will allow you to find sleep faster.

                                            >"How is it?", Leperloo asks you.

                                            "Didn't try it yet."

                                            >"Kay."

                                            >The silence returns as you force the grout into you.

                                            >Just as you expected, it doesn't taste like much and wash it down with some booze you brought with you.

                                            >As soon as Plaguebloom sees your flask, she holds her hoof out to you and you give it to her without any words spoken.

                                            >Alcohol is one of the few things that bring you facilitation here and you are more than willing to share some of it with your comrades.

                                            >Who knows who will return to the Hamlet and who won't?

                                            >It would be plain unfair to deny someone the taste of home.

                                            >"Thanks."

                                            "No problem."

                                            >"How's your leg?"

                                            "Fine, I guess.", you reply and throw your bowl next to the cauldron, "It's throbbing."

                                            >"That's good.", Leperloo states.

                                            "It is?"

                                            >"Mhm. Means that there's still life in it."

                                            "Okay then."

                                            >Plaguebloom reaches into her saddlebags and pulls a small sachet of leaves out of it, holding it out to you.

                                            >"Take this."

                                            "Thanks.", you say and take the leaves.

                                            >"Chew on them fer a bit. They taste bitter, but they will help with yer infection."

                                            "Thanks again.", you reply and do as she told you.

                                            >"Don't worry about it. Just don't forget about mah cider."

                                            "I won't.", you chuckle, "I won't..."

                                            >And once again, silence settles in.

                                            >You retrieve your pistols and give them a good look over, trying hard to ignore the bitter taste in your mouth.

                                            >By Celestia... They look filthy.

                                            >Grime, blood and various other bodily and natural fluids completely coat their once so shiny barrels.

                                            >It would be in your best interest to thoroughly clean them, lest they fail on you in a critical moment.

                                            >God knows that has happened before.

                                            >So you pull out a rug and some oil out of your own saddlebags and start cleaning your chosen tool of death.

                                            >And after a few minutes of dedicated scrubbing and polishing they are almost presentable again.

                                            >Of course they are not in the best condition they could be in, but this will do more than nicely for the moment.

                                            >As long as they still fire the bullets you put into them and don't shower your face with searing shrapnel, it will be fine.

                                            >Stowing them away again, you get up and lay down on your bedroll.

                                            "I think I will call it a night."

                                            >"Yes.", Occult Bloom says, "It has gotten quite late."

                                            >"That's a good idea", Plaguebloom states and closes her book.

                                            "Who will keep guard first?"

                                            >"I will", Leperloo says and stands up, shouldering her now shining sword, "I'm not tired anyway."

                                            "Good. Wake me in four hours, okay?"

                                            >You are quite exhausted, but the others really need their rest. They have done so much more than you in the past hours.

                                            >"I will. Your rest shall be ensured while I keep my eyes wide open.", Leperloo says and giggles, the latter a quite rare occurrence for her, "Nopony shall get past my blade!"

                                            "Thanks."

                                            >Hopefully Leperloo will keep her word.

                                            >Hopefully nothing will happen tonight.

                                            >Hopefully you will wake up...

                                            >What would you give for a few walls to protect you right now. This foul smelling clearing doesn't exactly ray out confidence.

                                            >Quietly mumbling a short prayer, you close your eyes and soon feel sleep overtaking you.

                                            >"Huddled together, furtive and vulnerable... Rats in a maze.", are the last words you hear before darkness fully engulfs you.