I Dream of Darkshire

[Albert Wesker]

So....this was Darkshire. The last true bastion of the Pale Moors.

As he strode through the gates after parting with his newest little cold-blooded tool, Albert Wesker was far from impressed. The entire town, no matter where he looked, carried an air of quiet desperation about it. Not quite given up or failing yet, but standing at the top of a slope where one good push toward the edge would send it all toppling over. One more good loss, a sharp blow to their pride, and the entire place would collapse under the weight of its own stubborn pride. Like a house of cards on a table someone kicked.

The fact it was still standing at all, given the state of the Moors, was nothing short of miraculous, however. He could see it, written on every face he looked at. The soldiers of Darkshire on the walls, the citizens of Darkshire in the streets, the ones from outside of the town who had only come to visit or who were here because they had nowhere else to go. Determination, resolute and harsh. Whatever final defeat eventually came by to push them over the edge was going to have a fight on its hands. They might have been chipped, cracked, beaten, battered, bruised, bloodied, exhausted and downtrodden, but they were far from beaten. The human spirit truly was admirable in the face of adversity.

....even if not everyone here was human. Even the dead here didn't get any peace. He saw them. On the walls. Bones showing through armor. Flesh rotten and sagging. Eyes not sitting right in sockets. Posture grossly askew.Standing guard, lurching and patrolling along behind their living fellows. Still serving, still defending. Shoring up numbers of the able-bodied and willing with the ones who had formerly been able-bodied and willing. Ingenious, really. Moreso because they were all so well under control, dedicated to and focused on their task.

All that and more, Wesker took in within a few quick glances. It told him a great deal, and confirmed what he had learned from his perusal of various information regarding the place via the Dataverse on his trip here. A dreary, depressing place, but a sturdy and resolute one. Not welcoming of outsiders, exactly, but neither were they going to turn them away. Anyone who walked through the gates was potentially another pair of hands to lend strength to Darkshire's defense, after all. Desperate times, as they said.

Wesker had just been considering seeing about lending his own hand to the aid of the town, putting up a good front, as they said, and garnering a positive image while sharpening his dulled skills, when a little peculiarity caught his attention. The sound of bells. Not like the ones he expected might be heard ringing and clanging in the churches of a place like this. Far too musical and whimsical for that. He turned away from the notice board he had been perusing about postings and recruitment for guards for the city, tugging at the collar of his coat as he did.

And the sight only served to bring a faint smirk to his face. "Well...that certainly explains the bells..." he mused. "A little traveling music. How quaint."