A dash of


Felt the sudden urge to whip up a new post due to the pandemic. This is a historically significant event, isn’t it? Which is why this post ought to be made right now, so that it’ll be part of that history.

I guess.

I wanted to share a piece I wrote last month which was meant as a starter for my character Lazarus because I liked how it sounded and it was very unlike my writing or something (haha)

The story is set in a medieval city of sorts. A few alterations have been made in order to um, not have it be related to the group it was originally written for.

It was a chilly midnight in the city; the pale moon shone quite serenely over the vacant streets – a majority of businesses which pervaded the area had closed for the day and its residents sound asleep. Lazarus traversed through the steps of stone languidly as he ruminated; an activity which ought to be exercised with great care. Should he allow his mind to wander for even a brief moment, the pungent scent of burnt flesh would haunt him almost instantaneously. Yet, a peaceful night’s meditation seemed most unlikely this time around.

He exhaled a thin air, fatigue swelled in his heart — both physically and mentally — as he continuously begged his mind to rest. Until he chanced upon an establishment which stood two blocks away – a Tavern, he guessed, by the hearty laughter and murmur which resonated from within the building and warm hues of ember that poured from its windows and door which were left slightly ajar. Sliding a hand into the pockets of his pants, he sighed in relief as his hand came into contact with the presence of several coins. That was all the money he had left. What better way to spend it than to drown himself in a small dose of liquor?

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