Post by break on Apr 1, 2010 2:29:18 GMT -5
. Galloway Break hoped what he had done could be claimed as self defense. To take a life was personal, even after his time spent taking many. True enough the pile of slobbering, foaming, and altogether wretched fur beside him was a monster. Also true, the Outsider—of which Break hadn’t learned until that day—had attacked him first and without provocation. It was becoming increasingly evident that he should’ve avoided this city. It was the sort of place that an invisible cloud hung over, even the blind mortals who wandered towards it knew the place was being picked apart by God’s will. Alas, ten steps in and he’d realized there was no simple way back out. These Outsiders swarmed every speck of land, at times they didn’t recognize his figure in the distance, taking him as their kin. If he were to break from their ranks to flee the wrath of a thousand fangs would befall him.
. It wasn’t like him to complain about work. Even the unsettling atmosphere of the city outskirts didn’t distract him much. Galloway worked hard at the ground, sticking it with his rusting shovel and then retrieving large dollops of dirt. Flecks of the stuff lined his dim jeans, a side-effect of the more hearty tosses, and specks of sweat glittered on his pale brow. The pit he’d made wasn’t nearly so deep as he’d of liked but the beasts were growing curious of the man standing in the midst of nowhere. From the city he would’ve been merely a silhouette, lifting a hulk of smelling and bleeding meat and, with surprising ease, tossed it in the hole. The monster’s feet stuck out at the bottom. Break frowned at the work. For a moment he hesitated, picking at his thick beard, then drawing a cross with his index and middle finger. Several horizontal motions later and the corpse was buried beneath a stack of earth.
. “Don’t suppose you’ve got anyone to say their goodbyes. Unfortunately I can’t say I knew ye well, and further words would dishonor you. Rest in peace.” Break nodded, his Scottish-heavy words giving finality to the ceremony. As promised he left the burial site promptly, kicking the dirt off his boots and shovel before storing the latter in a broad tan backpack he carried with him. Break remained nonchalant as he went, adjusting his coat, buttoning the lower ones on the ancient piece of brown fabric, and warming his hands against each other to fight off the cold. The sweat on his face wasn’t helping on the cold front. Not much of a camper, that meant he’d want shelter soon. Just had to take his chances with the city. Break uttered briefly to himself as he went on with a long purposed stride. Once he finally reached the city he uttered a plea to Sucellus. Hopefully the pagan god would look kindly on his past deeds.
. It wasn’t like him to complain about work. Even the unsettling atmosphere of the city outskirts didn’t distract him much. Galloway worked hard at the ground, sticking it with his rusting shovel and then retrieving large dollops of dirt. Flecks of the stuff lined his dim jeans, a side-effect of the more hearty tosses, and specks of sweat glittered on his pale brow. The pit he’d made wasn’t nearly so deep as he’d of liked but the beasts were growing curious of the man standing in the midst of nowhere. From the city he would’ve been merely a silhouette, lifting a hulk of smelling and bleeding meat and, with surprising ease, tossed it in the hole. The monster’s feet stuck out at the bottom. Break frowned at the work. For a moment he hesitated, picking at his thick beard, then drawing a cross with his index and middle finger. Several horizontal motions later and the corpse was buried beneath a stack of earth.
. “Don’t suppose you’ve got anyone to say their goodbyes. Unfortunately I can’t say I knew ye well, and further words would dishonor you. Rest in peace.” Break nodded, his Scottish-heavy words giving finality to the ceremony. As promised he left the burial site promptly, kicking the dirt off his boots and shovel before storing the latter in a broad tan backpack he carried with him. Break remained nonchalant as he went, adjusting his coat, buttoning the lower ones on the ancient piece of brown fabric, and warming his hands against each other to fight off the cold. The sweat on his face wasn’t helping on the cold front. Not much of a camper, that meant he’d want shelter soon. Just had to take his chances with the city. Break uttered briefly to himself as he went on with a long purposed stride. Once he finally reached the city he uttered a plea to Sucellus. Hopefully the pagan god would look kindly on his past deeds.