2 - The Fort
The aches and pains of my bones never faded as I walked onwards. My gait improved marginally as I learned how to limp with all four of my legs, but it was infuriating. It seemed that the fire that kept me alive, returned me from death, would not see fit to fully heal my bruised and torn tendons. I was trapped in a half-dead limbo, and the magic seemed content to keep me there.
The road pulled away from the steeply vertical hills maybe a mile later, and the fog-drowned land transitioned to gentle foothills. I wasn’t blind, and I could see through some measure of the mist, but the problem was that its uniform thickness meant I was in a moving circle of maybe twenty leg-lengths as I walked. I turned my eyes back up, peering through the dense fog above, but the smoke had been swallowed, my only landmark lost to the pale miasma.
My chest and forelegs smacked into something, and I gasped, the yelp caught and strangled as it tried to escape my throat, joined by the sound of snapping, rotten wood. I stumbled backwards, and glanced around wildly to see what had struck me. The road had curved while I’d kept the course, and it was nowhere to be found now. In fact, I’d gone so far off the path I’d run into a mouldering wooden fence, built of branches and scrap wood even before the years of decay that had befallen us both.
Beyond the fence, fields of brown grass and sickly, dead trees stretched into the fog. While those dead trees seemed to have been grown in rows, as if planted, at some point since their death they had begun to twist and distort. While the trees themselves had ceased to grow and change, the ambient moisture in the air had continued to twist and distort them. Now, the trees closest that I could see were gnarled and crippled things, hunched over and stabbing their branches into the earth.
One tree in particular seemed to have continued stubbornly growing long after the others, and its branches were nearly as thick as its roots. The original base had split from the weight of the tree toppling over. The new roots held fast in the gentle breeze, not even shuddering as the branches high above did. I found myself staring at this tree for a while; I swore, if I looked closely enough at it, that the roots looked like legs, the trunk a pony's barrel...
The sound of low growling yanked my eyes away from the twisted tree, and I ducked low against the fence. While it was only two horizontal logs for as far as one could see through the fog, it was a better hiding place than anything else. I couldn't keep myself from peering out across the fallow fields out of curiosity, however.
The ground rumbled with slow stomps—heavy feet striding through the fog towards me, yet they moved without any sort of alarm. The steps were constant, and after a few moments, their source presented itself.
A massive quadruped shape loomed through the fog, padding gingerly between the trees, and I could see dark brown fur, speckled with white. A muzzle, big enough to swallow me whole were I stupid enough to look appealing, was tipped with a snout that sniffed at the air. The beast’s eyes were the eyes of a hunter, relaxed, but swiveling quickly to watch all around itself, and intact, not at all like the embers that the feral pony seemed to use now instead. Two ears flicked wildly as the beast turned its head. As it approached, it sought me, by sight, sound, and smell.
It was a massive canine. While I wasn't sure of the breed, it looked not unlike my faint memories of border collies. Farm dogs, for hunting, protection, and herding. Whatever had happened to it, to cause such terrifyingly massive growth? Clearly, we had been afflicted by two different magicks, unless the effects varied incredibly widely. From where i sat, I sensed no heat, aside from that of its breath.
I was frozen, afraid to move, as the beast stopped only a few leg-lengths away, sniffing at my hiding place. It sat, and the ground shook, as it simply stared at me. Eventually, I was able to move a shaking hoof out of safety, and the beast's eyes snapped to watch my hoof intently. Yet it didn't pounce; it only sat still, and watched me.
Shaking, I crawled to my hooves, locking eyes with the great hound. "G… good d-dog…" I rasped, as I held a hoof in front of myself, as if it afforded me some illusion of safety. The hound didn’t respond at first, and simply watched me intently.
When it did move, it was only a small movement. The beast’s lips retracted, exposing twisted twin lines of jagged teeth. Some had continued to grow alongside their host, while others had seemed to have shattered into a hundred smaller teeth, each growing independently as a new tooth within the beast’s gums. Finally the beast let out a low growl that was nearly tectonic.
Still shaking, I started slowly backing away, and the growl faded. Thankfully, the noise seemed to have been a warning. It did not want me here, and I was only too happy to oblige. I continued to stumble backwards as the hound watched me, never moving from where it sat.
Eventually, my hooves found the road once more. I took my eyes away from the hound to glance down at the hard-packed dirt for only a moment, but when I did, I found that the beast was standing now, still watching me intently. Nervously, I swallowed, and my sore throat rebelled as an all-too-literal lump passed downwards. Then I forced myself to follow the road as I had before, still watching the great hound as I staggered parallel to the fence.
After a few leg-lengths, the ground shook, and I froze—but the beast had only taken a step on its side of the fence, watching me and following along. It seemed it wanted to follow me, and I prayed to the winds that it stopped when I had left the farm behind.
We walked like that for several miles, my steps joined with those of the hound. Eventually, the fence turned away, and I presumed the property line came to an end there. Another field stretched on, just as fallow as the first, but it was at that corner that the dog sat once more.
I continued onward, still watching it, but the beast never crossed the fence. It was protecting it, and I had hopefully made it clear that I had no intention of intruding. So it stayed there, and disappeared into the fog as I walked onwards. It became a looming shadow, then a blurry silhouette, and then faded away entirely as I continued to follow the road.
After another few miles, another great shape began to loom out of the fog before me. As I approached slowly, it gained definition, and I saw great stones, held together with cordage, tree bark, and molding. A wall. It stretched upwards for what seemed like twenty-five leg-lengths, making it unfortunately insurmountable.
Well, that wasn't technically true. I could conceivably clamber atop the larger stones, scale this bulwark, but I had no idea how far it stretched in either direction, and no clue as to what lay beyond it. The wall was clearly constructed intentionally, a non-natural defensive line. A fort, perhaps?
Glancing around, I also noted that the fog seemed to recede from the wall itself, as though repelled. Now that I was right up against it, I could see it easily stretched for a good distance, though I still couldn’t see the ends. They curved away into the fog, and faded from sight. More confusingly, the road seemed to lead right into it, or perhaps it had been built with a complete and utter lack of respect for the road. Trails of hoofprints led from the road and meandered through the mud at the sides of the highway, either following the wall or circling back to go down the road the way I’d come. The majority of them seemed to continue on to my left, however, and I chose to follow the path more traveled.
As I limped along the side of the wall, I started hearing faint noises. Often no more than hoofsteps on wooden boards above, but occasionally there was the rattle of armor or the creak of wood, presumably through one of the thinner sections. Whoever had built this wall, it seemed they still occupied it, and I hoped they were not as far gone as the stallion I’d put down earlier, nor beasts like the great hound.
After some distance, I spotted a small pile of rocks that stood out from the general state of disrepair the wall was in. Approaching it, I was able to examine it in further detail, happy to finally find something.
It seemed here, the wall had been smashed from an attack, or perhaps had never been built properly in the first place, and crumbled under its own weight. Most of the hoofprints I’d been following in the soft dirt ended here; clearly I was not the first, nor the last to make this discovery. Inside the wall, I could see the superstructure of wooden support beams, and inside that, a small room, dimly lit.
I clambered inside, my stiff joints still ill-suited for rock climbing, even for such a small climb. I felt satisfied with my earlier decision; I’d have never made it up the wall. Even now, my balance was terrible, and I tumbled forward into the room with an echoing clatter as my looted armor slammed into the rotten boards. Groaning, I once again began the long process of rolling over and gathering my hooves beneath me to stand up, looking around as I did.
It seemed the wall was hollow through and through, turned into a series of corridors that defenders could use to support weak points while being protected. I’d appeared to have climbed into a ransacked storeroom, presumably where spare weapons, armor, and food would have been kept had they not already all been stolen. Possibly via the same hole I had just entered by. The room seemed to be lit by a string of dull electric lights wired down the corridor, passing through this room, but more prominently by small windows near the ceiling that let the light of sunset take up the slack.
As I was looking around, a shuffling noise made my ears perk up, and I turned to my right just as another pony entered. She was ragged and her eyes were dulled embers like the ponies before, which was quickly becoming the norm. Her equipment seemed to be that of a soldier, but much lower quality. There was barely any metal except those of the fittings, and the leather was ragged, cut roughly. A dull red cloth seemed to be their chosen banner, and one was woven through her armor, a faded coat-of-arms on her sides.
Just in case, I tried to greet her, but it died in my throat as she let out a hiss of “Invader! Thief!” Her hoof snapped up across her chest to her other side, and when she pulled it back, her sword came with it, free from her scabbard. I froze as I realized she wasn’t quite holding it, instead somehow keeping it a certain distance from her hoof, without the aid of unicorn magic. She was an earth pony, and yet, as she staggered towards me on three legs and the fourth already swinging futilely at me, I began to panic, backing towards the other door. How was she doing that?
Trembling, I drew my own sword, feeling silly now as I held it clenched in my teeth. It dawned on me that again, I had no idea what I was doing, and I was going to get myself killed fighting foolish fights like this. Death was no longer permanent, but pain seemed to be, and I had no urge to put myself in the path of more of it.
Then she jerkily leapt forward, stabbing her shortsword at me, and we were fighting.
I dodged, barely, by rearing back on my hinds, and I swatted at her with my fores as she advanced into them, battering her once or twice. That seemed to have little effect, but as I dropped back down to all fours, I swept my head forward, smacking my sword into her shoulder. Her armor absorbed most of the blow, but I cut in slightly, and drew a spatter of slightly more reddish blood. All that seemed to do was enrage her, however, and she jerked her hoof back up in a practiced movement.
Pain shot up my side as the blade entered it, and I yelped, my sword clattering back to the floor as I backed off, leaking black ichor, with more staining her blade. Screw this.
I left my sword, turning and limping quickly down the other corridor. The crazy pony followed me, judging from the growling and snapping, but I could limp faster than she could chase me with one of her hooves holding her sword, so I was gaining ground. Maybe fifty legs of dimly-lit corridor later, I staggered into another room, this one filled with the brighter light and warm crackle of a firepit. The windows near the tops of the rooms suddenly made even more sense; they vented smoke from fires lit within. Clever.
I had no time to appreciate it, though, for the room was occupied. Another pony, this one dressed in the same uniform as the one chasing me, looked up as I entered. I must have been a sight, clad in rusty armor and dripping ichor from a gash in my side. As I limped past, they shot to their hooves, grabbing their own sword with a Corona of magic, and I had two eyeless ponies following behind. This one, I could not outrun.
There was a cabinet by the other door in this room, filled with pots and jugs. Leaping up, I wrapped my fetlock around the mouldering wood and pulled, ducking behind it as it fell. The crashing sound of splintering wood echoed through the corridors, but the room was blocked behind me for a few seconds. I used my stolen time to limp as fast as I could, desperate to widen my lead.
Another crash sounded from behind me, followed by the clatter of hooves on wooden boards. They'd broken through. I pushed myself harder, fighting the pain of my joints, the burn of my muscles, as I approached another room ahead.
Three more Eyeless waited for me, swords drawn and eyes burning like fire. The one in the middle seemed more together than the other two, a moldy leather hat shading her face from the light. As she pointed at me, she let out a cry of her own, “Vagabond! Varmint!”
She unslung a long metal-and-wood rod from over her shoulder, the earth pony again seeming to hold it in her hooves, and leveled it at me. Twin metal tubes, one atop the other, gleamed ominously in the dim sunsetting light. I didn't know what that was, more magic wielded by non-unicorns, but I did not stop for it.
Instead, she stopped me. Her hoof twitched, and fire and pain blasted out of the end. It felt like I'd been bucked, the force of two hooves slamming into my chestplate in a single blow, and red hot sparks and metal pellets scattered around the room. I reeled, screeching to a halt as the other two Eyeless flinched. Smoke from the barrel clouded the room, and everypony turned hazy as it began settling to the floor.
In the echoes and smoke, the middle Eyeless barked again. “Damn straight. I know yer the no-good Hollow bastard that’s been thievin’ our stores!”
I tried to gasp out my defence, a cry of innocence, but all that came was a rasping whine from my abused chest. The embers of her eyes narrowed, burning like white-hot irons. “That's what I reckoned. Waste of skin, oughta put you out of your misery.”
She leveled her weapon at me once more, and as the two Eyeless on either side of her flinched, I saw my chance. To their right, a steep staircase led upwards, opening up to the sky above.
I flinched as her hoof twitched, and as the weapon barked with smoke and fire, I was already clambering up the stairs. The blast went wide, and I felt its heat as I scrambled, but I had evaded the shot. The Eyeless Commander swore loudly as she cracked open her strange weapon, and the other two began to scramble up after me.
The sun felt nice on my face, even as it was filtered through the fog that had overtaken the land. I had not realized how dearly I missed it until I had been without it, even for such a short time.
The top of the wall was no less shoddily built than the interior, with scrap wood tied together with ancient plant cordage, patched in places, and notably unpatched in others. The whole structure creaked and rattled as I fast-limped down its length, running for my unlife as best I could. I noted that from up here, I could see the rooms broke the line of the wall, actually being towers visible from only one side of the structure, protruding outwards towards whatever they were defending.
The other two were right behind me, slowed temporarily by the ladder, but they scrambled up with practiced clumsiness as opposed to my untrained variety. One let out a ragged war whoop as they saw me attempting my escape. The other leapt up, taking to the sky on ragged wings that looked more like feather dusters. They dove over the side of the wall, catching up to me in seconds by gliding.
I braced myself for an impact, but it never came, at least not how I expected. The second after my hoof stepped off a wide wooden board, it exploded in a shower of wood and splinters and the sound of the Eyeless leader's weapon blast. It missed me, but a fragment of wood smacked into the side of the soldier following me, and he plummeted back off the side.
“Consarnit!” The cry came from below, and I knew a second blast would be imminent. I leapt as suddenly to my left as I could, and the next blast missed me as well.Wwhite-hot pellets of metal and smoking wood flew skyward, past my side.
I could only continue to gallop doggedly forward, as I hoped against hope for an avenue of escape. As I glanced to my right, just to finally see what I was working so hard to get over this wall to reach, I was momentarily awestruck.
A village. No, not even something so small. There were too many ponies, even scattered throughout the streets as they were. This was an entire undead burg, of thatched rooftops and smoking chimneys and faded, Hollow ponies. This was no fort I was invading, but an entire township. Sanctuary, perhaps, if I could find a way down to street level.
Another weapon-blast; a double-hooved kick against my armored barrel, served as a jarring reminder. First, I would need to escape its overzealous protectors.
I was fast approaching another tower. I could see more Eyeless ponies running from that direction, armed and armored, and they clearly intended to stop me. In the distance, somepony rang an alarm bell like their life depended on it. This was wrong, I thought. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would have been happy to talk, if only I could make the damn words form.
Too late now.
I lowered my head and braced for pain, slamming into the armored Eyeless stallion on the left. Every bone in my neck crunched and popped, and I felt dizzy, but I was still running while he struggled to stand back up. I focused on my hooves, noticed I had begun leaning hard to the left with my skewed balance, and adjusted back right.
Behind me, another blast of the Eyeless leader’s mysterious weapon sounded out, along with a cry from behind. Not in frustration, but in pain—perhaps she’d blasted one of her own soldiers by accident? I focused again on that weapon. It felt so familiar to me, now that I really racked my head. Not like something I‘d seen, but something I’d heard described…
A gone? Or…no, a gun, that was it. She had a gun, a...shot-gun? Vague memories of hearing about hunters in the woods welled up, and I could hazily picture them. That was one question maybe answered, then.
Another blast from the shotgun, this one from below with the sound of splintering wood, jerked me out of my ruminations. I felt the hot embers of burning wood scatter across my back, and a moment later there was a strangled yelp as one of my pursuers fell through the hole.
I was approaching a third tower now. This one, I would not be able to bolt past. A moldy wooden barricade, erected hastily but appearing sturdy, clearly barred my way. Two more Eyeless Pegasi hovered around it, armed with swords. Another unicorn behind me was nipping at my hooves.
I was running headlong towards disaster like a cart out of control, and much like that same cart, I couldn’t stop myself. I grit my teeth, as they rattled in my gums with every thumping clop upon the wood, as I braced myself for impact. Maybe, I hoped, this wood would be rotten too. Maybe, I prayed to the winds, I would be able to plow right through it and keep on running.
Pain exploded across my chest and neck and head, and my vision went white, only for a moment.
I was piled in an ungainly heap up against the wooden wall. Pain shot up my hooves as I tried to move them—my lead hoof was broken for sure, and black ichor dripped down my forehead, staining my muzzle. Lethargically, I spat, keeping it away from my mouth. As if that would do anything.
Above me, I could see my efforts were not in vain. I had managed to shatter a few planks of wood, and the one Eyeless pegasi I could see looked surprised, at least. That faded when the Eyeless pony that had been right behind me finally caught up, undead lungs huffing. “Well… huff… That’s that then… We… puff… finally got her.”
“Reckon the C’mander’ll wanna finish this herself.”
“Eyyup.”
The two Pegasi landed, swords drawn but held lazily. They clearly believed I was not a threat… correctly, sadly. I would be doing no fighting with these broken and battered bones. I struggled, and managed to flop downwards from a limp, broken pile into a limp, broken heap, vaguely pointed towards the town-side of the fortifications. So close, yet so far away.
There was a clatter of hooves coming up the stairs nearby, two at a time. A moment later, the Eyeless Commander emerged, sweeping the tower. Her eyes snapped to me, then the barricade, then the Eyeless standing guard. Slowly, a smile crept across her ragged orange muzzle. “Darn tootin’! Nice work, fellas. Ya get the first pick of the fresh weapons when the next shipment comes in, now that our thief’s been caught.”
Her gaze dropped back down to me, and I withered underneath it. All I could do was gaze up, wishing for mercy as she drew her shotgun once more.
“And you, ya’ll been no end of trouble. Your little raids’ve been deprivin’ Fort Ponyville’s valiant defenders their weapons and armor, ‘n clearly we ain’t the only ones ya been thievin’ from. I recognize your armor, but you ain’t no soldier mare.”
I tried to speak, one last time. All that emerged was a pained, fleeting bleat of pain.
She huffed. “Well, don’t reckon it matters much now. Say goodnight, Sugarcube.” She pointed her shotgun at me again, and I could see all the way down the dark metal tube. I braced myself for the pain. I wondered, for a moment, what it would feel like, catching that blast in the head.
There was a loud click, and a moment later, another one. The Eyeless Commander froze, then cracked open her shotgun again. “Tarnation! Out of shotshells! Knew I’d forgotten somethin’!”
She fumbled with her shotgun, searching the pockets of her leather barding for more ammo, and I saw my escape. If I could just get to the edge, I could throw myself over. Hide somewhere below. It would hurt, but it was my only option now.
I hissed and whined as I forced myself to stand on a broken leg, the Pegasi next to me jumping, brandishing their swords. “Now, don’t go gettin’ any funny-”
Too little, too late; I was already moving. I threw myself at the battlements, making the Eyeless leader jump in surprise. I fell short, but started a mad one-hoofed scramble up over the side of the low wall. I saw the town again, what looked like a market. Many legs below, dully-colored ponies looked up, surely watching me. So close.
“Oh no you don’t!” I had just enough time to turn my head, and look at her as she howled from behind me. She had dropped her shotgun and spun on her fores, hinds facing me, and then both her hind hooves whipped out, fast as coiled snakes. It took a moment for me to register that I'd been kicked, because the next thing I saw was sky, then ground, then rooftop, then sky again.
My whole chest was on fire, ichor leaking from my armor and trailing through the sky behind me. This wasn’t like getting bucked—this was like getting slammed head-on by a train. My barrel felt wet, and as I tumbled through the sky, I caught a glimpse of the metal chestplate. The entire plate was bent inward sharply, too deep. My chest had been utterly crushed by the impact, my ribs pulverized like twigs. The bent and broken armor was the only thing holding me together now.
Then another impact, soft, as I smashed through something. The thatched roof of a building. Dried grass tumbled lazily through the air as I plummeted straight down through the rafters. The last thing I saw was the sunsetting sky, still a dull orange, shining faintly through the thatched roof’s gaps and the hole I’d torn with my impact. Then my back, and the back of my head, slammed against the floor, and I was gone.
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I knew it was Ponyville when I recognized a certain hat.
That pony needs a friendship flask.
Taking a guess that the dog is Winona. Preview of Sif stand-in?
I don't mind the idea of guns being present in this setting, if anything it intrigues me because it raises the possibility of some Bloodborne influence in this too, though I did find the description of the gun to be rather difficult to grasp, I didn't quite understand what it was at first. Calling it a "rod" feels a bit odd to me, combined with "twin metal tubes, one atop the other" made me imagine something more like a staff with the tubes at either end, but maybe that's just me. I suppose shotguns can probably have the barrels aligned vertically rather than side by side? I feel like mentioning it has a handle or grip might help, with "strange levers" representing the trigger and hammer.
Also I know now from reading the later chapters how non-unicorns holding things works but I can't help but think back to a mock anatomical picture I saw a while ago that explained how ponies could do that (tl;dr gross alien claw-finger-things reaching out from the underside of the hoof).
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Eeeee, yeah, no. Maybe with mechanical hands? in a Deus Ex-inspired story, that could work without being too weird. Or if it's Changelings, shapeshifters are fun that way.
As for the shotgun, what's being described is actually an Over/Under shotgun design. I've always been a fan of these conceptually, because they're just strange enough to stand out, and they make a little more sense, as having the weight distributed in such a way actually reduces the recoil felt when firing. Plus the Apple family having a classic side-by-side double barrel is a little cliched, I feel.
(I don't own one of these myself, though I wish I did. This is just a quick grab off google.)
i.redd.it/ldfiayhwt0f21.jpg
Damn AJ messed him up with that buck.
Wasn't expecting firearms
I'm assuming it's a mix of dark souls and bloodborne because of the guns?
Noticed this last chapter: despite the limited range of vision (their 50 legs lengths last chapter I think... Sun going down or fog getting thicker? Probably not his eyes getting worse.) he could see the smoke. That implies to me this WON'T be a bonfire (if you are even using those as respawn points... if he doesn't just always reanimate where he falls) the small size of those from Dark Souls (more campfires IIRC) and is likely to be a building on fire. Perhaps more than one building.
I briefly wondered when the armor didn't fit if he was a Pegasus, but dismissed it because he had looked at his not-Marks* and should have noticed his wings then. Also, he never thought to use a horn even after seeing his first foe do so. That means, unless the reanimation magic puts 'nega-Marks' on Donkeys he is an Earth Pony. Fluttershy being a glaring exception, Earth Ponies usually have the fanon (don't think it ever became canon?) of being associated with nature-related powers. As such, he might at least consider being less than terrified of this creature. If so, it will almost certainly result in him getting his throat ripped out, and maybe even having to regrow his more tasty internal organs and some muscles, but it is an interesting thought.
*Hmmmm... Is an Alicorn (or at least Alicorn power-level) version of Starlight Glimmer the final boss, or at least a second in command? Probably not Tirek... he would have left them blank, and while a sucking void could theoretically be the "up to 9000" version of that, it doesn't feel right. Actually the part about Starlight is pretty unlikely, but it is, at least, slightly plausible, but only if she decided that "Death is The Great Equalizer" or something like that, since I rather suspect he won't have the "all skills are the lowest common denominator" aspect... but MAYBE if that only applies while he is in this setting's equivalent of "Soul Form" or whatever it is called when you die, until you beat a boss (IIRC).
Well, I don't know if species has anything to do with it, but it appears I was right! Also, could this be a magic-ed Winona? Given the chapter title... Well, it depends on if this is alternate universe, or a later point in the timeline (bridge to G5?).
Okay, could still be Winona (but it was a long-shot wild I guess anyway).
And here is where I realized that IF I am actually correct then the tree shaped vaguely like a Pony would probably be Applejack... or MAYBE Fluttershy.
Continuing in another post because the last login time of author indicates he probably read my previous one.
Part of wall across road might be an illusion as an effective defense against dumb-as-post undead?
Hmmm... if it is that complex it its floors plan then their probably at least WAS a gate behind the illusion if there was an illusion. Also, probability of illusion increases, although it could have been built during a societal collapse in a defense against the undead that failed (that would explain the slapdash quality of the masonry work).
Also, electric lights get you yet another "not just Dark Souls with Ponies" point, although my personal fanon is to that Ponies use magitech, not electricity.
This break OTOH was an accident, and I didn't feel it good to delete a second post having made that same easy to make accident few minutes ago.
Smarter than the previous ones... Might be a case of mistaken identity if everypony has the same look? Also, the bit with the floating sword is interesting... Undead magic or did the library he was in take long enough to crash that magical enhancement have had time to advance under the pressure of a war against undead? That could also explain the electric lights if they were a rarity compared to magic lights in his era, although that would probably be just time, rather than the pressures of war. Maybe if Unicorns to make mage lights and the artificial ley lines that connect them (such as from what I believe is a hydroARCANIC dam outside Ponyville as seen in "The Marvelous Mare-do-well") became in short supply.
Having his sword in his teeth will keep him from continuing to attempt diplomacy, even if he thinks of the idea it could be mistaken identity. Also, the loose teeth may be a common ailment, explaining the need for the enhancement on her sword.
As this is not a beer, I suspect it should not be capitalized.
Unfamiliarity with firearms lend credence to my theory he has been dead a long time.
Next, I continue to become more convinced they could end up as allies as soon as he says something. Of course "not insane" doesn't have to mean "friendly to outsiders".
My last observation on this paragraph is that they must be using more crude gunpowder than we do today, or maybe that heat is seen by undead as a fog (I saw something similar in another fic on this site).
Yet more evidence they aren't necessarily evil, even if they might realize he could be intelligent. Also is "waste of skin" a reference to the Bloodborne character-creation option? Probably not...
Extra letter.
Ah... So maybe not QUITE so long dead.
Maybe he is a Pegasus whose wings got cut off? He is praying to "the winds". See earlier comment about the armor feeling odd on his back for context on why I am pondering this.
Commenting is proving technically difficult. May read without comment, at least for a while.
Also, I now see the author's note about tech level, increasing my respect even more.
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For what it's worth, I have been having an absolute blast reading all of these comments! I really love when people get deep into the speculation and analyze all the little details; I made sure to place them carefully just for the folks who look closely.
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Glad to know my "not so much comments as commentaries" style has another admirer! Most people I'm not sure of either way since they don't respond, and I suspect it may annoy some authors, and slight more other readers/commenters with its length. Which, of course, is no reason to stop since the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.