Recent content by The Pilgrim

Brea She didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t know what either of them meant. Good, that made her angry, and it was better than feeling sorry for herself. “I will give them whatever they need, if they will help me kill more monsters like that.” She refused to call her family’s murderers men...

The Pilgrim sighed. It was the most motion his body had made since they had sat, and it seemed ill-suited to the action. Every angle of his body was close to what it should be... but not quite there. Brea had taken notice, even if subconsciously, for her gaze did not linger upon him for more...

The young woman startled at Garrod's whistle, then flushed. The color in her cheeks could have been embarrassment or anger, or more likely both. She looked back at the fire. "I am angry." The Pilgrim lifted his eldritch neck at this. "I should feel sad... but I just am so, so angry." The...

The walk back to the camp was no doubt slow to his companions, but they did not abandon the Pilgrim as he hobbled. A courtesy that was appreciated, for the weight of his pack felt especially burdensome after the fight. The young woman had again fallen to silence, but he sensed a rising tension...

The Pilgrim made a small noise of affirmation as he began to hobble after Garrod. It was difficult to tell if he were moving with more effort or simply the same strained gate he had always had. "Wait!" The woman said with surprising sharpness. "What... about them?" She glanced back at the...

The young woman watched as Garrod executed the criminal. She did not recoil from the blood this time, even when flecks of it colored her traveling cloak. Her lips may have paled a shade listening to the wet, crunching path of the sword, but still the fires of hate glowed behind her eyes. The...

The Pilgrim was still on his knees, and he felt a tremor in his wounded leg. It was distant, as were all earthly sensations these days. It was as though his body were growing further from his mind, and the feelings needed time to cross the distance. Except for pain. Pain always came through. He...

The Pilgrim existed in a state of pain, but he was not numb to it. To suffer was to highlight his devotion, and there was nothing he would not endure for the Great One. He could feel blood on his leg, though the sensation was muted. Rising was a great effort, and one that would take some time...

Your end. Something extremely peculiar occurred at those words. The Pilgrim was a willing vessel, hollowed out ever-more by his master (O, glorious are the consumed). Of all the thoughts and emotions that projected through his putrid flesh, joviality was nigh unheard. Yet, there it was, for the...

The young woman had taken her chance to scramble away from the carriage and get to her feet. The bandits did not seem interested in her anymore, not with the armored pyromancer upon them. She ducked and tried to keep as small as possible against the arrows. They were not aiming for her, but...

The howl that escaped from the newly ignited brigand was enough to stir the birds from their roost. As the crows took flight the Pilgrim felt a pulse of intrigue from his pack. The other two cretins stepped back from their companion, and their fear turned to confusion, which skipped right past...

It trudged along the wide, cart-worn path, a mass of shifting black cloth beneath a large and heavy burden. The being known only as "the Pilgrim" was pitiful to behold: bent over, dragging each footstep, seeming as though the weight of his pack would crush him at any moment. Despite the pain of...

Pain snapped up the Pilgrim's arm at Visha's violent grasp, but he did not let go. He could not let go. His hand, arm, and body had been seized by another power, of which a tiny fracture trickled down his arm. It burned as it did so, and a frail, barely audible moan escaped his chest. The...

The bent-over figure could not held but be pushed back a step by Visha's enthusiasm. Her voice was loud against his degraded ears, hidden as they were within layers of cloth, and the light that danced around her was painful to behold. But pain was his lot in life, the great price. He would be...

It was a great storm of chaos, and the Pilgrim’s poor, weak ears were ringing with it. It was difficult to rise with the weight strapped firmly to his back, but he rolled over and managed to push himself to his feet. It appeared to take a great deal of effort. ”Hi.” A dark maw arched slowly...