#guardia compagnia

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

from across the fog a large portal opens, the insides comparable to a kaleidoscope you could find at any self respecting tourist trap. Out of said portal scampers what looks to be a blue imp that smells of cheap synthetic strawberry perfume and crayon wax. Heaving and panting like a feral dog, it stops before the Hungarian homie before smiling manically. Shark like teeth, sickly green in a similar hue as the magic that summons each of his guards. Their crazed eyes meet what they assume is his, really they’re just staring up at his armored head while holding a piece of paper.

“I DOODLED YOU SOMETHING AND I HAVE A QUESTION”

Before he could properly respond they quickly hold up a sheet of printer paper and what looks to be figured scribbled in…black crayon.

“Hypothetically if I were to make more of these in exchange for going on a date with one of your guards, how many would I have to make?!”

they look insane but determined

"Ah, fellow artist of this Pandaemonium... What a remarkable feat... rarely I wouldst smile... But this is something so pure and warm it couldst burn entire kingdoms to dust. I thank thee. And... I assume thou shalt uh... spend thy time with any of my faithful outside of trials and their duty. Just, please, one more work of art to feed pleasant thoughts..."

[ashenstardust]

(Lines of Obsession) Pairing: Vittorio/The Knight/Guardia Compagnia x Reader Summary: Blood is not enough to pacify The Knight nor his loyal guards. It isn't enough to pacify Vittorio either. The Entity is more than happy to provide alternative methods of reaping what she's sown, and your cries taste oh-so sweet. Word Count: 2472 Rating: E (18+) Warnings: 5 v 1, jealousy, pain/bloodplay

[atari-phantom]

I don't know how it would work or if it even would, but my brain is spewing random bs about how it would be awesome to have a DBD spin-off game that focused around the Knight.

Like, a 4v(idk how many) gamemode, or, something. Or even some type of 4 player PvE game.

Yes, I just want a Kill With Friends type of gamemode.

However, I would also love to see the Fog's resident group of medieval bros be able to unleash mass amounts of carnage and destruction upon waves of enemies.

It probably isn't helping things much that my big Dungeons & Dragons / medieval-fantasy-whatever hyperfocus is back

[gallagherkun]

Mmm mostly alejandro

Birdbrain: I can take all four of them Vittorio: In a fight, right? Nad: [headdesks] Birdbrain: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Vittorio: IN A FIGHT, RIGHT???

[bubbasbubblebutt]

WOE FATHERHOOD BE UPON YE

[starberrymilk-vendetta]

I gotta share the singular DBD HC I have. alejandro is trans masc.

trust he told me frfr 100%

[gumheel]

honestly the most subtly fucked up part of forged in fog that i've seen no one mention is that there's no way tarhos' pack as presented are real people in the fog. that is 100% an entity manifestation a lá victor which is so delightful to me in particular because can you imagine pulling up in the hell dimension and the hellwarden decides your special thing is going to be manifesting fucked up amalgamations of memories you have in roles vaguely adjacent to those in life

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

"I hath my most faithful whom I hath not to pay even with food and pay no taxes for obvious reasons. In addition, I sincerely support Amanda, who is definitely a lovely person. Shalt start drinking tea or simply brew any available herbs as well. I'm Hungarian but still quite fit."

Repost if you are a totally not villain who exploits interns, avoids taxes, drinks tea and supports other totally not villains who, for SOME reason, are declared war criminals and murderers. Or if you're British.

[danny-0lsen]

I CAN'T HAVE SHIT IN THIS REALM

edit: dumbass was killswitched because if you vaulted a window (+ other stuff), you could summon the Guardia Compagnia without cooldown. Yes, you could make it so the Faithful Three were patrolling/chasing at the same time. they thought The Entity wouldn't notice.

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

the same familiar pale figure approaches the three guardsmen, a kind smile on his face.

"hey boys!!! it's good to see you again! been on any cool adventures lately?"

the man looks far more put together than he did in the past; everything about him seems neater, and he seems a bit less troubled than he used to. he feels a bit of warmth being around his old friends; he breathes in, and out, and feels alive again.

The faithful three, sitting near the campfire, greeted Vincent, too.

Sander looked jovial, chewing a chicken leg.

Oi, mate, we'z been doin' good. Just da big spider in da sky brought some bugeyes and metal gitz 'ere, so gotta stay aware. Who knows what deze new 'fings are up to?

Durkos nodded:

Indeed, we encountered some unknown wretched beings lately. A black beast with foul blood and, I do believe, an unholy amalgamation of man and metal. Otherwise, our crusades art resounding successes.

Alejandro was grinning, as always.

Our morale is high, and although we hath not found copious permanent allies throughout the realm yet, we possess what most others don't: battle brethren! Am I right, men?

[rotted-anomaly]

So, I was doing research for fanfiction and my comic stuff. Well, let's just say I'm swarming in headcanons about Tarhos and the Guardia Comapagnia.

I only say headcanon because it's not explicitly stated and such. Also, it's not really a big revelation. Sorry if the way I'm typing is causing hype, because it's probably really obvious that, yeah.. they're dead. But I'm not always so sure, predominantly because some characters can look really "decrepit" because entity messes with appearances and such, also medieval medicine isn't the best, and such.

I'm sometimes just staring at their models...because I wanna be accurate in writing the appearances. I think their like ghost zombies? Perhaps...

Like they're so burnt, bound, horribly injured. Makes me sad. Tarhos' companions, his closest friends, are dead...or something.

Tarhos unwittingly hanging onto their souls of his closest friends, so they can hunt survivors together.

He was able to take them forcefully out of the Guardia Compagnia.

The battle at Portoscuro taking their lives and as the Fog closes in they live in a sort of zombie-ghost like limbo.

At least their together

I know he already had a tome, but I hope we get another one.

Yee. Best friends forever... I wonder if they argue, probably.

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

A figure reappeared in a ghastly glow, turning out to be no one else, but Durkos Malecek, Knight's envoy and assassin.

"Fret not, youngling. My liege just was willing to give thee a lesson thou deserveth. The trap I attached is the one thou hath stolen from lady Amanda. So after thou taketh it off or... I humbly would ask thee to return it to whence thou hath taken it."

A cloaked figure approaches from behind, putting a reverse bear trap on Frank's head and then quickly jumps back to shadows and... disappears. There is something written on the device.

"La crocciata."

Frank wasn't expecting to be grabbed, let alone something slammed onto his head. It was heavy, and after a few moments of struggling against the thing, Frank turned around.

He let out a sound of despair, though, in the reflection, he spotted the word.

What does that even mean? He wondered, still trying to pry the padlock loose. With nothing else to do, no one else to turn to, Frank screamed around the steel in his mouth.

[mara-xx217]

do you think you could write a oneshot off the of headcanons you did of the knight from dbd trying to charm the reader? especially involving gifting flowers (or atleast trying his best to gift the reader flowers with the help of his besties the guardia compagnia lol)

Hell yeah! I love these boys and they deserve to be observed in all their awkward glory.

xxx

"You should giver her a knife!"

"...ladies don't need knives, idiot."

"WHAT?! Who DOESN'T like sharp objects?! That would win me over in an instant..."

Unhelpful bastards, every single one of them! Tarhos was certain that you were the one, but you were too meek to allow him close. Alejandro waved around one of his knives, offering it to him.

"She'd looove a knife-!"

"Don't be an idiot-"

Durkos was quiet the whole time, as he always was. Tarhos looked over to him. He met his leader's gaze and slowly, and silently- pointed at a gathering of slightly wilted but still wholly put together flowers.

Tarhos knew what he had to do.

...

The hand extended out to you made you fall to your knees. Your heart beat screamed in your ears as your adrenaline kicked your senses into overdrive. There was a killer directly in front of you and you didn't know what the hell was happening!

The flowers were lost on you. All you could see was a gauntlet that was caked in blood mere inches from the tip of your nose. It was a staring contest and you were sure to lose. So when the exit gates were powered up and Vittorio came to your rescue with a flashlight he found in a random chest, you were beyond grateful to be saved.

It only made Tarhos's blood boil. That little weasel ruins everything he touches! He's more determined now to win you over than he was ever before. And that Vittorio? He's gonna get it, too...

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[yomersapiens]

Tumblocalypse

- Da quanti anni sei chiuso qua dentro? - Saranno più di quindici. - E nessuno è mai riuscito ad entrare? - Ci provano sempre. Cambiano aspetto. Nome. Tipologia d'attacco. Li ho studiati tutti. Ho visto vecchi amici cadere e prendere il loro posto. Si reinventano, ma qua dentro non entreranno mai. È l'ultima barricata.

Mi avvicino alle assi di legno inchiodate davanti a quella che sembra essere stata una porta, una piccola fessura mostra quello che c'è fuori. Sono tantissimi, alcuni sono corpi nudi, portatori di seni enormi creati per attirare l'attenzione. La maggior parte sono pagine vuote, facce numeriche con nomi umanoidi. - Saranno migliaia... centinaia di migliaia... - Continuano ad aumentare. Si mettono qua fuori e aspettano di seguirmi. - Riesci a bloccarli tutti? - Ci provo, ma sta diventando impossibile, non riesco più a distinguerli da quelli veri, guarda laggiù - Indica una ragazza vestita in stile anime che urla sbracciandosi, sembra in pericolo. - Dobbiamo aiutarla! Non è una di loro! - È qui ti sbagli! Hanno capito come fare, si stanno evolvendo. Lei è esattamente come tutti gli altri, se non peggio, perché crede di essere umana. - Come diavolo è possibile? - Da quando è arrivato lui, tutto è cambiato. - Lui chi? - Non lo vedo da un po' ma prima era qua fuori ogni giorno. L'uomo giallo, dalle orecchie a punta. Sembrava un mostro creato dalla mente malata di un disegnatore giapponese. È stato lui a raggrupparli, loro lo seguivano mentre ripeteva pika-pika. Ho ancora i brividi a pensarci. Quegli occhi minuscoli e neri mi perseguitano. - Che fine ha fatto? - Una volta radunato il suo esercito si è nascosto, penso sia laggiù, in un castello. - Da quanto non mandi un segnale verso l'esterno? - Ho provato a postare una settimana fa, una gif, ma nessuno sembra averla notata. - Quindi potrebbe non esserci più nessuno di vivo davvero qua fuori. - Talvolta ricevo un segnale da parte di un gruppo che vuole insegnarmi come essere un dinosauro. - L'ho ricevuto anche io, è stato terribile, sembrava divertente e invece... - Invece era solo un altro stratagemma architettato da pika-man. - Così si chiama? - Così abbiamo cominciato a chiamarlo noi della resistenza. - Cosa fate voi di preciso? - Alcuni scrivono. Pensieri. O hanno bisogno di compagnia. Alcuni si confessano. Pochi creano. Sempre meno. Altri mandano fotografie. Didascalie. Citazioni. Ogni tanto un messaggio anonimo, una risposta secca per chiudere il discorso. Potrebbe non essere qualcuno di reale, potrebbe essere uno di loro. - Chiedono aiuto? - No, in genere chiedono foto piedi. - Ah. E i troll? - Ci sono ancora ma stanno tra di loro. Quando serve li distraiamo con una nuova teoria complottista che li tiene impegnati per mesi. - Quindi di attivo, non fate nulla? - Non ha senso. Guarda fuori. Sono in troppi. Hanno vinto loro. Questo posto è in mano ai bot adesso. - È un peccato. - Lo è, ma guarda che tette hanno alcuni. - Sono davvero fatte benissimo. - Le hanno studiate per anni e ci sono riusciti, meglio delle originali. - E quindi che farai, li lascerai entrare? Cederai anche tu? Mollerai tutto? - Ogni tanto, quando ho voglia, lancerò un segnale. Qualcosa di breve magari. Una battuta o una frase romantica del cazzo, come quelle che scrivevo una volta. - Niente più photoset? - Sono troppo vecchio per quelle cose. Ci sono persone bellissime e preferisco guardare loro. Poi ho paura di essere utilizzato. Studiato. Copiato. Riprodotto. Clonato. - Potrebbero farlo? - Oramai non mi sorprendo più di nulla... - Senti ancora qualcuno della vecchia guardia? - Ogni tanto l'anziano dottore grigio rimette in funzione il segnale morse. Mi manda un audio lungo una decina di minuti fatto di bip biiip.

Delle urla spaventose provengono da fuori. Corriamo alla porta per guardare che accade ma un fascio di luce intenso quanto un laser ci acceca. - Cosa sta succedendo??? - Non lo so!!! È terribile!!! - È tornato pika-man??? - Forse è lui! Ma non vedo più niente!!! - Corri a prendere dell'acqua, c'è una tinozza piena vicino alle bozze salvate. Bagnati il viso. Torno a vedere ma tutto è offuscato, le urla sono finite. C'è una strana calma nell'aria. Odore di sangue e brandelli di bot porno ovunque. - Non è stato pika-man. Questa non può essere opera sua. - È allora di chi diavolo si tratta? - Guarda! Laggiù! su quel cavallo! - È la signora bianca! Quella della profezia!!! - Non può essere vero. È solo una leggenda... - È lei! Guardala! Imbraccia la lunga spada argentea! È stata lei! È venuta a liberarci! - Vuol dire che, possiamo uscire? Te la senti? - Non so se sono capace. Da quanti anni è che parlo da solo? - Ho perso il conto. - Dobbiamo uscire. Unirci a lei. Insieme forse possiamo farcela a sconfiggere pika-man. - Scrivi all'anziano dottore. Smetto di guardarmi allo specchio e parlare al mio riflesso. Inizio a togliere i chiodi dalle assi sulla porta. È arrivato il momento di fare qualcosa.

[omenics]

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌.

..cw for mentions of pregnancy, (seemingly) one-sided love, although i believe that’s it. very self indulgent.

› ..vittorio has left again, and you silently hope that your knight fills the void you had lost. fem reader. — hi dbd community. i am fulfilling my will to write for this mf even tho i dont play dbd 👍 but anyways enjoy the thing inspired by wolven storm from the witcher bc it slays and ignore how bad it is im bored and need to write stuff lmfao

Life was always filled with misfortunes, all being thrown at one over and over until sometimes it was too much. But to you, not everything was bad. The beating rays of the Italian sun rained down with relentless heat, and to those unfortunate enough to farm when the sun was at its peak, or to even dawn armour from head to toe gained your sympathies.

Although the keep was warm, it was not as hot as it was outside and you were thankful— but the layers of fabric that had adorned your bodice stuck to your skin and bound all heat to your body. Perhaps you were unfortunate as well, for your clothing was soaked and sticking to you; but such was normal for summers and as a lady of the house you had to endure. Vittorio was gone on yet another expedition, leaving you alone to your own devices. You wondered how he was managing through the hot summer, however you assumed well. He was smart, and had probably found a way to keep cool if he was still in this familiar climate.

Your mind wandered to the men clad in armour, how they had been feeling as the sun beat down upon the hot metal— they were nearly fainting you bet, and your eyes wandered to Tarhos.

He stood by the door alone, his back turned to you as you tried to relish the cool breeze flowing in from your window. It was much too hot to be doing anything, and you had chosen to sulk in your quarters. The knight at your door was tall, and you had known his armour was heavy just by its look. You wondered if he was suffocating as the hot, humid air never lifted just as you— but he was different, and was the Guardia Compagnia.

Your husband left them home this time instead of taking them on his journey, and you were happy.

Although rarely spoken to, you were fond of Tarhos. Perhaps you were drawn to him, to his tall stature and professional nature, more than a married lady should be— but you could not help it, as fantasies of your childhood sparked through your mind and heart while you gazed at him.

The thought of being a princess and having a knight in shining armour to come save you sent nostalgic excitement through you, remembering the storybooks you had grown to love and attach yourself to. When your marriage had come, you shook off the dreadful anxiety that came with it and hoped that you would live in a fairytale, in an ideal life that a lady would— however you had been wrong.

No child had barren your womb, and at times you were grateful— the others not. Perhaps you were only disappointed as that is what your life had groomed you to want, to carry children for your husband, or maybe you were disappointed because it caused a feeling of loneliness, of being loveless. You knew you loved your lord husband, but you wondered if he had loved you the same. He was busy, and had little time for your comforts— but that was what you had grown used to, and you solemnly accepted that you would have no children of your own, or a husband to fully love you.

At times you wondered if pursuing another would have been better, or if you had married another lord and became his lady wife you would not think such thoughts, but that is not what happened and you could not change it.

A slight creek from down below your window had made you focus back to the present. Staring was not ladylike, and you smiled at your moronic thoughts. You could not have the knight at your door, you knew it— however a small spark of childish hope brewed in your heart. Perhaps one day it would fade and fizzle, leave and be forgotten. Or maybe it would come true, to see your titles as Lady of Portoscuro relinquish and become a forgotten lady in the history books, happy with the unattainable man stationed outside of your chambers’ door, watching and guarding.

He was only something you could only hope for, but guilt nagged at your heart. He was honourable, chivalrous. He would not break vows, and nor would you.

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

Tarhos looked in the mirror, noticing it's even worse than appeared first, and sighed.

"A bath... and with water? I hath not noticed aqueducts or rivers, but I suppose t'was Entity's mercy? The only means I usually bathe with... rain. Or my men collect snow of Ormond in a bucket. Interesting..."

Caleb raised a brow, and cackled, "well, ya can always steal their bullets. Like a sword wi'out a whetstone."

( @sir-tarhos-et-compagna @bloodsoakedogre let's do it like this not to spam the other blogs notes XD)