#thedoomstart

Even gods need fresh air sometimes, and walking around the city without a mask on is good for his soul. He gets to enjoy his mortal coil a little longer. “It’s nice that someone has taken up custodianship of the temple,” he muses, looking up at the structure. “Preserving their archives for the public... it’s a noble cause.”

“come in,” leofric said as he heard a knock at the door. he had been taking appointments all day from concerned walech citizens that wanted to know the country’s stance on the issue of the divines, but it was becoming exhausting. “i apologize, i have not been given the authorization for aid yet.”

its eerie, seeing windows boarded up and doors locked tight, even as corpses littered the alleyways. the stench of blood clogged her nose, and she wished she had just stayed in the water rather than brave the streets. holding her skirt up, she stepped over a severed arm and scrunched her nose as she instead stepped in... something.

“IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, FEEL FREE TO TAKE IT FROM THE CART,” he said absently, waving a hand to whomever had approached. he quickly gathered up what he was grabbing, a fresh stack of food. he had volunteered to help pass out food to those in need. 

“IF YOU WANT TO DONATE FUNDS, YOU CAN. WE NEED ALL WE CAN GET.”

Deimos had kept his head down when they made the call for experienced healers and claras with a decent grasp of their power. He was well versed in his newly found gift by now. Using it nearly every day. The white magic ebbed and flowed through him like a warm wave, a dream he had long forgotten suddenly resurging. It was hard to hide however, the soft glow that seemed to follow him everywhere outted him quickly to the gathering crowd and with a begrudging smile he agreed to go. 

Now he sits on the edge of the forest in their makeshift camp, the castle walls looming just on the horizon. Deimos not-to-delicately shoves away the wrist that he had has hands clasped around and stands. “There.” He nods. “All fixed.” The merc looks around at the straggling group of fighters. His stomach twists and he pushes out the thought I should have been here. Deimos swallows a bitter taste and turns to call out. “Right then,” his voice dull, “who’s closest to the brink of death?”