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Wolfare

Jack

Kiev, Kyyivs'ka Oblast', Ukraine

Level

Bloodless

100 XP

These muscles work relentless, my stamina is endless

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Currently Offline

Profile Awards 1

Badges 31

Nyx Assassins

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3 Commando Brigade

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Steam Trading Cards Group

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0stap
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Farrow_15
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cosharek
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Toast
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Review 1

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Comments

0stap 14 Jan @ 4:23pm

-rep camp all game with sparks and afraid from bounty, just low

0stap 28 Oct, 2021 @ 12:43am

While you sleep in earthly delight,
hunters roam in Desalle's moonlight.

0stap 12 Oct, 2021 @ 2:14pm

I had little. I wasn’t destitute; I’d been on hunts that had earned me some Blood Bonds on occasion, but it had been years since I’d experienced prosperous times, and the flow of Blood Bonds that came from a serious session had long dried up

That which remained for me, my precious Nagant rifle, had grown further and further from my grasp, as I’d been forced to lend it to prosperous hunters in order to make ends meet.

Into my home they would impose, bringing shotguns and rifles, and their leather holsters, imprinted with the unmistakeable outline of a Dolch semi-automatic. ‘I want the power to kill people from 300 feet’, they’d enjoin emphatically; ‘ the power wrought only from the latest update’.

0stap 12 Oct, 2021 @ 2:14pm

My Nagant was back in my single room home, up on the fireside rack where it had started it’s career, but I daren’t touch it. I’d had no choice but to lend out my rifle for money, there had simply been no other option out of starvation, but It’s wood stock had wrought honest hunters from their lives, and to touch the thing now dealt me a constituency formative of a drunk; emetic outbursts that made even the simple touch of varnished arctic wood cause a rising bitterant feeling within my throat.

0stap 12 Oct, 2021 @ 2:13pm

I peered into the cupboard above my cast iron stove. Behind the door formed of cracked, ruined and blackened wood was nothing: some salted pork, week old, blue mold besotted bread, and some of McAlpine’s bootleg whiskey. The greasy handle, coated in the fat from a hundred fried breakfasts, contaminated my palm.

It was barely a hobo’s feast, but for the next week until I met my friends again, it would have to do.

0stap 12 Oct, 2021 @ 2:13pm

I closed the cupboard door and wiped my hand on my breast. Maybe the future would be better.

Perhaps, this unscientific existence within a swamp of mobs and autism would come to an end, and, years later, I would be joking of the hilarity of the current situation with my friends.

Perhaps.

The grease stained my bright shirt. As I peered down to glance at the mild yellow shadow that advanced upon my white chest, I considered all sorts of things; laundromats, mothers with washboards, taverns with fresh linens.

None of these was an option for me.

My shirt wouldn’t be clean until spring, and that was if the outlook as positive.

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