He feels like he's been running for days and days on end. The passage of time is completely lost on him, trapped indoors and isolated from the outside world for so long that he's certain he'd forgotten what the sun looked like, and how the grass felt under his feet. The feeling of the crisp, cool air, he's never realized how much he missed it all. But those are thoughts he can only spare for a few short moments, because once he was out in the open, he had to run. He had to get as far away as possible, as fast as he could.
Which, all things considered, isn't really that fast. He was never a sprinter, not anyone known for their athletic prowess, but he surprised himself how quickly he could move when in a state of sheer panic and adrenaline. He knew he'd be caught again if he lingered, if he stopped to catch his breath for even a moment, so he had to keep running. Even when his legs were straining with the effort, even when he felt dizzy from blood loss and the pain was excrutiating, he had to keep going. He couldn't risk even a second.
It must've been hours, several long hours, at the very least. He'd seen the sun peeking out behind the clouds when he'd escaped, and it was starting to set by now. He must've covered some considerable distance since then - but even that didn't seem like far away enough, and he kept pushing himself past his limits, his left hand clenched between his right arm and side haphazardly tied off with torn scraps of fabric, hair and clothes drenched despite it not having rained yet in the day.
Reaching the village after so long is like a Godsend. He can see the buildings from between the trees, and it's that relief that propels him to keep going - he's finally found a safe haven, someplace he can rest and find help, and hopefully some information in regards to a particular family. But his hopes are dashed when he stumbles out of the woods, just barely keeping on his feet, and there's not a single person to be found. There's no one out walking in the streets, no sound of a small but busy bustling village, no horses or cattle or sheep chattering amongst themselves. In that moment, he swears he feels his heart stop. After so long, after finally escaping, he's still on his own.
Not entirely alone, as only seconds after the devastating realization hits him, there's noise coming from the trees just behind him. It's a familiar growling sound, monstrous and dreadful, and the panicked feeling gets his feet moving again as he hurries further out into the empty village to get away from it. Sure enough, the hideous creature drags itself out from the woods after him, howling loud and menacing as it lurches and lumbers forward. It's soon joined by a second, and a third beast behind even that, gruesome tall humanoid beings covered in an inky black mass and smelling like rotten flesh. They have no faces - no eyes to see or ears to hear, but somehow they still know where he is, long clawed arms swinging madly and wide fanged mouths waiting to dig into soft human flesh.
Clancy's more than familiar with them. They're mindless, easy to take out if one was properly armed, but that's where his problem lies. He can only drag his own feet and stumble over himself as he tries to get away, eventually losing his footing and tripping to land heavily on his side on the ground. The monsters still approach, and the only thing he can do is awkwardly crawl forward, his one hand still pressed against his chest making it difficult. But eventually he can reach a pile of old, dusty bricks near an equally old and dusty well, and with his good hand he picks one up and braces himself against the well, brave but weary and frightened, and not just from the approaching monstrosities.
He's come this far. He's survived so much. But if this was how he was going to go down, then like Hell he's going down without a fight.
most certainly, pls help oh knightly knight
Which, all things considered, isn't really that fast. He was never a sprinter, not anyone known for their athletic prowess, but he surprised himself how quickly he could move when in a state of sheer panic and adrenaline. He knew he'd be caught again if he lingered, if he stopped to catch his breath for even a moment, so he had to keep running. Even when his legs were straining with the effort, even when he felt dizzy from blood loss and the pain was excrutiating, he had to keep going. He couldn't risk even a second.
It must've been hours, several long hours, at the very least. He'd seen the sun peeking out behind the clouds when he'd escaped, and it was starting to set by now. He must've covered some considerable distance since then - but even that didn't seem like far away enough, and he kept pushing himself past his limits, his left hand clenched between his right arm and side haphazardly tied off with torn scraps of fabric, hair and clothes drenched despite it not having rained yet in the day.
Reaching the village after so long is like a Godsend. He can see the buildings from between the trees, and it's that relief that propels him to keep going - he's finally found a safe haven, someplace he can rest and find help, and hopefully some information in regards to a particular family. But his hopes are dashed when he stumbles out of the woods, just barely keeping on his feet, and there's not a single person to be found. There's no one out walking in the streets, no sound of a small but busy bustling village, no horses or cattle or sheep chattering amongst themselves. In that moment, he swears he feels his heart stop. After so long, after finally escaping, he's still on his own.
Not entirely alone, as only seconds after the devastating realization hits him, there's noise coming from the trees just behind him. It's a familiar growling sound, monstrous and dreadful, and the panicked feeling gets his feet moving again as he hurries further out into the empty village to get away from it. Sure enough, the hideous creature drags itself out from the woods after him, howling loud and menacing as it lurches and lumbers forward. It's soon joined by a second, and a third beast behind even that, gruesome tall humanoid beings covered in an inky black mass and smelling like rotten flesh. They have no faces - no eyes to see or ears to hear, but somehow they still know where he is, long clawed arms swinging madly and wide fanged mouths waiting to dig into soft human flesh.
Clancy's more than familiar with them. They're mindless, easy to take out if one was properly armed, but that's where his problem lies. He can only drag his own feet and stumble over himself as he tries to get away, eventually losing his footing and tripping to land heavily on his side on the ground. The monsters still approach, and the only thing he can do is awkwardly crawl forward, his one hand still pressed against his chest making it difficult. But eventually he can reach a pile of old, dusty bricks near an equally old and dusty well, and with his good hand he picks one up and braces himself against the well, brave but weary and frightened, and not just from the approaching monstrosities.
He's come this far. He's survived so much. But if this was how he was going to go down, then like Hell he's going down without a fight.