Not for the first time since Trevor had left Alucard's new, burgeoning town, his mind circled around a simple, if unanswerable, inquiry.
'What the bloody hell is wrong with you?'
Unsurprisingly, his mind wasn't fit to answer, only to ponder why he had been so eager to leap at the chance to get back on the road. His time spent convalescing after his encounter with Death was understandably dull, save for Sypha's threats that she'd do worse should he put her healing efforts to waste. Afterwards though there had been plenty to keep any of the villagers busy. Buildings to craft, roads to plow, resources and trades to improve. Trevor put his hands to use where they were needed, but building up a society was not his specialty.
His talents lent themselves to an older, darker purpose.
So it was that he found himself once more going out of the town to ensure the peace of neighboring areas. In that way he felt truly useful, and back on much more familiar footing. Besides, helping out surrounding areas also meant keeping danger far from those he loved. It was a winning situation all around, or at least, it mostly was.
Sleeping in mud puddles without a decent bath or tavern for miles might have made him miss the simple comforts of town life a little.
He'd heard rumblings to the north of a new breed of trouble. Magic and mayhem in the wrong hands once more, under charismatic leadership that could have a snail sell its shell for the baking. He didn't have all the details just yet, only that far too many were leaving hearth and home to take up residence in a city that supposedly could only be entered through selling one's soul. In exchange was the promise to rid the land of all darkness. Possibly rumors and exaggerations, but enough people nearby were going missing that Trevor set out to investigate what in those stories was actually true. He bundled up his horse with supplies and set out.
While on the road he came across another story, one that was enough to side track him to a certain set of castle ruins. Stories of a strange woman with hypnotic abilities who was luring in victims by the dozen. My, but people did like to make him parse fact from fiction. At least he hoped there weren't dozens of bodies to be found. Leaving his horse nearby Trevor crept around the crypt with a practiced ease, weapon in hand but for now at his side.
When finally coming across the pale woman he stood his ground, remarking flippantly, "You're quite the talk of the town. Surprised they haven't named a drink after you yet."
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'What the bloody hell is wrong with you?'
Unsurprisingly, his mind wasn't fit to answer, only to ponder why he had been so eager to leap at the chance to get back on the road. His time spent convalescing after his encounter with Death was understandably dull, save for Sypha's threats that she'd do worse should he put her healing efforts to waste. Afterwards though there had been plenty to keep any of the villagers busy. Buildings to craft, roads to plow, resources and trades to improve. Trevor put his hands to use where they were needed, but building up a society was not his specialty.
His talents lent themselves to an older, darker purpose.
So it was that he found himself once more going out of the town to ensure the peace of neighboring areas. In that way he felt truly useful, and back on much more familiar footing. Besides, helping out surrounding areas also meant keeping danger far from those he loved. It was a winning situation all around, or at least, it mostly was.
Sleeping in mud puddles without a decent bath or tavern for miles might have made him miss the simple comforts of town life a little.
He'd heard rumblings to the north of a new breed of trouble. Magic and mayhem in the wrong hands once more, under charismatic leadership that could have a snail sell its shell for the baking. He didn't have all the details just yet, only that far too many were leaving hearth and home to take up residence in a city that supposedly could only be entered through selling one's soul. In exchange was the promise to rid the land of all darkness. Possibly rumors and exaggerations, but enough people nearby were going missing that Trevor set out to investigate what in those stories was actually true. He bundled up his horse with supplies and set out.
While on the road he came across another story, one that was enough to side track him to a certain set of castle ruins. Stories of a strange woman with hypnotic abilities who was luring in victims by the dozen. My, but people did like to make him parse fact from fiction. At least he hoped there weren't dozens of bodies to be found. Leaving his horse nearby Trevor crept around the crypt with a practiced ease, weapon in hand but for now at his side.
When finally coming across the pale woman he stood his ground, remarking flippantly, "You're quite the talk of the town. Surprised they haven't named a drink after you yet."