Fernweh

WHO: Herbert West
WHEN: End of March into April
WHAT: Arribal and exploring
WHERE: Near and around Gazin
WARNINGS: Panic attack in the first starter, and eventual mention of cannabis in the second thread.

Arrival - CW Panic attack

'Oh god, oh god, no no no!!!' this couldn't be happening! They were coming through the wall and all he could do was stand in horror as his assistant fainted. 'please, I'll be better, just let me escape this!'

One moment those half rotted reject hands had been reaching for him the next a blood curdling scream ripped through the relatively silent crossroads as he hit his knees. He was having trouble breathing as he hit his knees, fast to small breaths from the panic of what had just been happening, not yet realizing that he wasn't in danger anymore, or that he had knocked his own glasses off his face as he hit his knees desperately trying to undo his fancy tie to breath easier.

They came back... they came back to kill him. What if they killed his partner? That was blood he didn't want on his hands. Why couldn't he catch his breath?

No, no, he had to calm down. This wasn't even his cellar anymore.

And yet he stayed there knelled hyperventilating, dressed in a fine deep blue suit with a long overcoat on. He had been heading out when shit hit the fan, and now he didn't even know what was happening.


Exploring
After checking in the inn, he had sat and took inventory of everything he had had on his person. Thankful that he had been about to head out least he be screwed over for something he truly needed. Tying his long hair back up in its blue ribbon and slipping his spectacles back on, he left his over coat behind on the bed, and only pulled on his suit jacket back over his suit. It had been winter still in Boston, it was spring here. Much to warm for all of that.

He came down to try and find someone in the inn who wasn't a native to speak to. To try and get some information. Even if his creatures had tried to kill him, this place was more back water than Dunwich and he'd rather just get back to Boston if he could.

As the day went one, he was finding the task a harder one. Seeking instead to inquire if the village was in need of a doctor. This place looked to backwoods, to far in the archaic past to eve humor needing a scientist even.

After a few hours of looking around he found a fence post to lean against, so he could light one of his remaining handrolled cigarettes with his old trench lighter. The lighter slipped back into his pocket blowing out the almost sweet smelling smoke as he tried to devise a plan. The smoke left a lingering smell of lavender, tobacco and something stronger in the air. The cigarettes were just a means to calm his nerves that got worse as he got older.

WHO: Geralt of Rivia
WHEN: April 1st to 5th
WHAT: Daily shit
WHERE: Tavern/Inn, Vasari area, enroute to check out Roselake
WARNINGS: C'mon, this is Geralt we're talking about. Anything goes.
NOTE: Put a location in the header please!

Really, life hasn't been all that bad since arriving. Even if he didn't have either of his swords or a horse to travel around the area with, no one was treating him differently because of who he was and what he did. In fact, some even seemed more inquisitive than uncomfortable when he lingered somewhere where others congregated.

As the weeks move on slowly one into the next, Geralt finally earns enough for a pair of swords, silver and steel, as well as a new horse which, of course, is given the same name as all the other horses he's ever owned. There was even some gold left over for some new leather armour. Yes, the Witcher was feeling far better now about travelling beyond the city limits of Gazin.

When he's not studying his map over a cup of some strong alcohol down in the tavern of the Inn he has a room at, Geralt finds himself in situations where he's "helping". Be it a lady who needs her cart pulled out of a mud slew or an old man who is being pestered by a menacing group of wanderers for money and items of worth. He even found himself rescuing a cat from a tree that was surrounded by three dogs. Had it not been for the devastated girl pleading for his help, the Witcher would have let nature decide the fate of old fat tabby.

If it wasn't raining, Geralt was wandering the area, learning about the bestiary and advertising himself to the remote farms that dotted the countryside, keeping mostly to himself and quietly missing the companionship of a certain bard, though he'd not admit it.

WHO: Duo Maxwell and whoever so happens to bump into him.
WHEN: End of March/Beginning of April
WHAT: Arrival and Exploring the City
WHERE: Gazin
WARNINGS: Besides language? Depends on how much he decides to divulge.

( I don't need something new! )