|Pathologic fanart that wasn't submitted to the gallery for one reason or another.|
Давно уж заброшены кисти,
Пылится у стенки мольберт,
Меж юным порывом и жизнью
Поставлен из будней барьер.
Забыты колодец и дети,
Забыт терпкий запах степи,
Ten Years LaterSPOILERS: for Pathologic as a whole and the 'Haruspex' scenario in particular.
Years had passed since the last ravaging assault of the Sand Plague, and slowly, the people of the town had ceased to fear that they might die on any given day. The words 'in a month' and 'in a few years' had crept back into their lexicon, and each pained cough was no longer followed by a muttered prayer. There were words and memories that would always cause a shudder or superstitious exclamation, but perhaps it could be said that the crisis was truly, finally over.
Some parts of it would never be forgotten, but wasn't that a blessing as much as a curse? Bonds formed, natures revealed, and destined places had been taken in the thick, putrid embrace of that disease. And none knew it better than the pair who stood speaking in that grey, twilit hour.
A bloody heritage for the man who loomed in leather and buckles, never without his knife or the faint odour of creatures killed by his han
The Bachelor's Ambition So that was it. Somewhere in that quiet stone grave of a town, the salvation of his work
would be found.
In the hours before dawn, it lay indolent beneath a sky of disconcerting crimson. The air
swam heavy in the streets, burdened by a sweet herbal odour that seemed to collect in his mind
and leave it sodden. Even the leaves that parted from autumn trees looked as though they were
drifting in slow motion, twirling towards the cobblestone street with the weary content of
Could time stand still in such a place? Could death lose its sting amidst the distant lowing
of the cattle and the full-throated moan of the wind over rooftops?
It was yet to be proven, he reminded himself with an abrupt shake of his head. Resuming his
previous stride, clearing such fantastical thoughts from his mind with frigid reality. Even if
the town could provide such a miracle, the greatest struggle still lay before him.
Even a word like 'struggle' seemed to drag at his weary
The Bachelor's Arrival The sky shone red overhead, and his boots struck a metronome rhythm against the cobblestone
street. His keen eyes were narrowed as they swept across the avenue ahead, and those most
prone to the witnessing of signs and portents shuddered behind closed doors.
Those who zealously guarded secrets were cold and could not say why, staring rigidly through
windows as though to watch for some odd change in the weather.
Perhaps even then the town as a whole was breathing deep, shaking itself from its herbal
stupour to acknowledge the arrival of some alien force. An unwelcome ethic carried in the
tightened fists and roving gaze of the stranger who walked its streets.
On some level, perhaps they all read the omen that echoed in his insistent knocks on a
stranger's door. That simple sound, ringing stark through the chill pre-dawn air, heralded the
unravelling of it all. Their unspoken rules, their bloody superstitions, all would be laid
bare before the newcomer's viciously
The Notes on the cuffs.Записки на манжетах. Или с чего начинают гаруспики.
Говорят, гаруспиков узнают по рукам. Может быть. Не знаю. Гаруспиком я никогда не был это профессия моего отца. И даже
What is 'before'? Rus. versionЧто было «до»?
Ярко-жёлтый месяц висел над ночным садом. Его глянцевый свет отражался от листьев деревьев, подобно мрачным часовым окруживших деревянную песочницу и с
Pathologic is a Russian computer game, often described as survival horror (even though its creators don't necessarily agree). You can read a pretty cool review of it here: www.rockpapershotgun.com/2008/… .
Official site: www.pathologic-game.com/
Official forum: www.ice-pick.com/
more Pathologic comics: www.diary.ru/~pathologicart/