#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

[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.

[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%

[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.

[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.

[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

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Reminder to talk about: "how the people Tarhos most likely was surrounded by and taken care of probably shaped his view on the Church and society in general."

-Gripping you- Thank you-

While I do want to make an entirely separate post about Tarhos's trauma being shaped by the state of the slave trade at the time he lived in I do want to talk a bit about slavery in Europe beforehand. Most notably it was """"banned"""" in Europe by the Pope, but what he really meant in fine print is that it banned the enslavement of Christians. There was an Islamic buying and selling slaves guide I found from the late 1200s that was translated into Spanish, so we know those rules were at least popular enough in Spain to be translated there. (The Islamic states were the largest slave trade at the time and for a lot of history) Though in general slavery in Europe isn't well documented, because of the usual revisionism a lot of medieval history went through and people not separating the slaves from the serfs and other people who were free, but worked off a debt usually for apprenticeships. The biggest difference between these social classes law wise is the ownership of their bodies.

Serfs and those who were selling their services could reject sexual advances and seek legal ramifications if those were breached, while obviously they hardly were prosecuted because of social divides, there's many of these contracts from the time that specifically single out that they will not provide sexual services. Regardless, that's a whole separate post, I just found the rabbit hole I stumbled into interesting and I do need to do way more research, because I could absolutely be saying everything wrong right now. I wanted to share the information regardless, because it's important to understand the key distinction between serfdom and those that were slaves: The ownership of the body.

We can see from Tarhos's lore that he was carried off via cart with many other people, to me this shows that the Guardia Compaignia participated in the slave trade in Europe beyond taking combat slaves especially if they were taking children. The slaves classes that I think are relevant to the compagnia are the obvious combat/work slaves and the other obvious arguably darker one sex/nursemaid slaves. Of course that's not to say everyone who Tarhos interacted with was a slave, undoubtedly if knights were living there they were free men, but I doubt they're the ones raising children.

I also really doubt the person Tarhos trained under gave a shit enough to raise him either, combat slaves were needed bodies in progressively bigger wars that had been happening. The more bodies you can throw at people as foot soldiers, the more you're protecting your better value units like knights and archers. These were also the ones usually taking the most casualties, you had to have people to replace them especially if you were hiring out your services in contracts and from what it mentions in his lore they had multiple contracts going at any given time.

So for Tarhos to be able to read and understand these contracts he at least has to have a basic level of literacy, definitely nothing like the monks would give, but someone had to do it and as mentioned before more than likely the person who raised him would be non-christian. Even if they were, it'd be going directly against the church's doctrine at the time furthering spreading the idea in his head that the church is hypocritical. It serves it's own interests and justifies it's slaughter and bloodshed from the average murderer, because they can claim it's a just action in the eyes of God.

His main caretaker even if he/she didn't care about him individually either would've still revealed this to him at a young age by their mere existence. His own existence contradicts everything. I don't think he even got much of a childhood, he was expected to be obedient and come every time he was called. Raised as a weapon in a highly competitive environment, he probably got into spats all the time. He's always been jaded to everything, from the time he was pulled out of the body pile he had to look death in the face and fight it every day of his life. People he grew up with died around him, he'd make friends and lose them in the same contract. He's seen blood, guts, and dismemberment his entire life.

He himself has had to pull others into the life he has or to be sold for worse ones and he can't complain about it. He's not allowed to be unhappy with his life, he has no time for it. It's all a continuing cycle that he's forced to participate in and has normalized to himself, because while it was part of the times, he was directly connected to it.

[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]

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?

[susieporta]

C'è una particolare qualità di quiete in chi incontra l'ombra con tutto il cuore.

Il tuo corpo può rilassarsi in sua compagnia perché comprende, nelle sottili comunicazioni della loro presenza, che nulla è escluso in sé, quindi nulla in te può essere rifiutato.

Una persona del genere, che ha rinunciato a fare la guardia contro l'ombra, che è venuta a indossare dignitosamente le sue cicatrici, non si contorce più dallo sconforto o dalle setole alla sofferenza. Non si preparano più per evitare conflitti. Portano una profonda disponibilità a ballare con l'incostanza della vita.

Hanno rinunciato alle distanze come strategia e hanno reso la vulnerabilità un loro alleato.

Appartenenza: Ricordarsi di noi stessi a casa di Toko-pa Turner.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

💔 - Tarhos @ Haru

✧ ── 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 4. A Bloody Kiss ═══ MEDIEVAL VERSE ═══

This was different from the usual clientele. Most of the time it felt as though the Guardia Compagnia was just a group of ruffians meant to haress and horrify the rural farmers into submission or burn down a home because a child stole a tossed away apple that had touched a lord's lips. As if that made it into gold. No no, this was for something else - the defense of a nearby city from an enemy mercenary group....paid enemies but nonetheless, it was odd though. Haru noticed how Tarhos seemed...tense with this sort of thing, perhaps he wasn't used to being on the defensive side and the idea of saving thousands of innocent people was all too bizarre. Either way he had been locked away with the other women, the safest place was down below where they could be executed before having any of their pride dashed away upon the city's possible loss.

Haruko though, naturally, had slithered his way out and was making his way through the castle to peer outside - his worst nightmares painting themselves to life in the flames and shadows below. Screams of misery and torment mixed with the ashes that rose above into the black abyss above. Even the stars were blackened out by the smog and he couldn't see his beloved below, he could barely see anyone through all of the mayhem. The maiden pulled back when he saw the barricade snap, skidding backwards into the stone wall with a horrified gasp - as though the air had been sucked from his lungs entirely. Had...Had they lost? He had no idea what was happening and when a horn sounded through the screams he found himself rushing down the steps, nearly tripping over his feet as he arrived in the main hall.

Thunderous stomps boomed throughout the corridors just beyond the threshhold of two oak doors, and the maiden pulled Tarhos' dagger from under his linens - he would not let himself be taken. Obsidian eyes darkened in determination when the doors finally did push their way open and a few knights shuffled in; tired, exhausted men who held the compagnia's banner. The maiden's gaze was transfixed on them until he saw a figure enter the throne room as though the man could have led all of the armies. Only then did the sudden cries of retreat from outside bleed into his mind and the realization dawned upon him; he saw with effervescent clarity when the knight, His Knight, removed his helmet to make his way over to his wife. His voice rang within the halls,

"The battle is over. We have won."

The dozens of eyes watching them both seemed to mean little to the Old Hound as he pushed through the various men to behold the majesty of his love; divine and clean from the slaughter and butchery right outside of the walls. Blood, sweat and grime meant nothing to Haru as he met his beloved halfway, falling completely into his embrace and kiss - relief washing over him as he held his husband. A few more kisses smudged across his cheeks as the adrenaline began to wane into pain and safety.

"Come...my love, I'll see to those wounds."

[bubbasbubblebutt]

I really need to organize my fucking playlist I just got whiplash from hearing "Camel by Camel" play right as I'm drawing Tarhos

[gregor-samsung]

“ Nel maggio Pietro andò in pellegrinaggio a San Michele del Gargano. La compagnia di Guardia era costituita da sessanta persone con tre crocifissi, due labari della confraternita di San Giuseppe, e quattro campanelli. Uomini avanti e donne dietro: erano ordinati come una processione: ma l'ordine rigoroso era mantenuto solo all'ingresso dei villaggi e sulle strade larghe: per i viottoli di campagna, andavano in gruppi di quattro, cinque uomini e donne, cianciando e ridendo, informandosi dai pastori del nome dei proprietari delle terre che attraversavano. I piú anziani valutavano il valore dei raccolti, la qualità delle terre, il tempo giusto per le semine. I giovani sentivano vagamente l'odore della primavera, il fermento della terra in fiore; vedevano il cielo profondo, le nuvole grasse di maggio e si guardavano negli occhi con una sorta di angoscia. Le ragazze strappavano ai margini delle strade i primi papaveri e le margherite e ne facevano mazzetti che poi portavano nelle rozze mani, non sapendo che farsene. Carmela Rivullo s'era messa due papaveri tra i capelli, ma poi uno aveva detto che pareva una capra adornata per il giorno della benedizione, facendo ridere tutti; e Carmela s'era strappata i fiori e li aveva buttati. Sperava che Pietro la guardasse; camminava dietro al giovane con un atteggiamento umile di bestia, respirando le sue orme. Pietro camminava distratto a testa alta; il suo passo era lungo, snodato come quello dei lupi; respirava a narici aperte l'aria profumata di erbe, e sentiva il vigore inesauribile del suo corpo dividere lo spazio con quel ritmo facile di respiro come se anch'egli fosse una cosa della terra e andasse per il suo cammino, senza opera di volontà. Carlo Antenucci chiacchierava continuamente, dava indicazione a tutti dei luoghi, dava spago alle ragazze con frizzi puerili, con bravate, bugie. Era la quarta volta che faceva quella strada, la conosceva a palmo a palmo, l'avrebbe fatta a occhi chiusi. Un anno c'era stato anche a mietere ed era stato l'antiniero per quindici giorni di seguito. Carlo Antenucci portava il fucile; di tanto in tanto si allontanava dal gruppo in cerca di introvabile selvaggina. Ma un giorno una lepre gli era capitata a tiro mentre tentava di attraversare il Tratturo e Carlo aveva sparato un fulmineo colpo che aveva steso a terra l'animale. Se ne vantò per tutta una giornata: e mostrava a Pietro il modo d'imbracciare l'arma, di puntare, di sparare. Pietro maneggiava il fucile con una bambinesca riluttanza che divertiva molto Carlo. Ma un giorno si allontanarono insieme e Pietro sparò a un corvo appollaiato su un pero: lo fece secco. – Hai il polso fermo e la mira giusta e poi, – gli fece il compagno cordiale, – sei solido e pieghevole come un carpino. Gli occhi di Pietro brillarono di gioia. Ma poi, ripreso il cammino, si era messo a fantasticare sulla morte: «c'era un corvo su un ramo, un colpo e rimase solo il ramo. Al posto del corvo ci va l'aria; se l'albero secca e si taglia l'albero, al posto dell'albero ci va l'aria; l'aria va in tutti i luoghi dove c'erano prima le cose vive». Camminava a testa alta con una specie di furia di cui si rendeva conto, e il leggero vento di maggio gli entrava tra i folti capelli ricciuti scompigliandoglieli. “

Francesco Jovine, Signora Ava, Einaudi, 1958; pp. 153-154.

[1ª edizione originale: 1942]