Real talk. Sam has the best unique outfit in the game.
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Angst!
We’ve been working hard this weekend. Chapter 21 and 22 are up!
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delights me that the Encyclopedia of the Medieval Chronicle specifies Bartosch’s work as “written in bad Latin” (& that kcd accounts for this by having him drop out of college to do swords)
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I wasn’t planning on drawing today, been feeling pretty down about my art. But then I got inspired, so very long story shortish: Hans was getting annoyed that his hair was getting in his face during the siege, and Bartosch tied it back for him.
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I wish kcd2 used Henry’s black smithing to upgrade the Devil’s Pack. Like repairing old armour or weapons so everyone’s nice and shiny.
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I stumbled over this in my procreate today:
Ages ago, a friend sent me a reference and I immediately thought of Hans, drew this, and then completely forgot about it again xD
Here is the reference, in case you also want to use it:
[[MORE]]
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jan žižka has a katherine-shaped angel and a devil-shaped devil on his shoulders and they are both going “kill. i think we should kill :)”
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Requests Open!
I’m really feeling myself at the moment and have a good writing mojo going so I’m taking drabble/oneshot requests! (~500 words)
Fandoms in the tags, love you guys! <3
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Ok I stole some more alcohol from my parents
Cuz I wanna get drunk
And play kingdom come deliverance 2
I want to play drunk Henry drunk🤷♂️
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113 hours in and I barely touched the main story 😬
And rebuilt half the game is crazy when I used TWO mods - save anywhere and no herb picking animation
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fucking sigismund and his head full of real githyanki hair
and if you got this reference we can be friends forever
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As much as I want to finish my main fanfic I’m also a bit sad and depressed cause I don’t want to leave them either if that makes sense. 😅
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Day 2: Swordplay - Bartosch event
{I’m also doing art, but I’m also editing my fic, and I thought this fitted. Small piece of context, very early on the same day, Bartosch was caught spying on Henry, and he played it off as wanting to discuss their preferences (Bartosch is a terrible spy compared to Henry😂). Henry was avoiding him until Hans forced them to go and train}
Bartosch looked all too happy when Henry approached him.
“A real fight? Or a practice?” Bartosch was serene save for his eyes, which were something playful and mischievous burned.
“Practice.” Henry swallowed.
He still needed to be able to protect Hans if something happened again. And it felt like something was that familiar dread had returned, and it had been hard to shake. He checked to make sure Hans sat comfortably, drinking wine on a bench, before committing to this mental torture.
“Afraid I’ll kill you by mistake?” All elegant and poised, but Bartosch had seen too much. And no amount of smooth talking or banter was going to undo the knot in his stomach.
With a deep breath, Henry entered the training arena. “You’re so confident I won’t kick your arse.” His nerves soothed as his thoughts returned to Hans. “You should know that didn’t end well for the last Lord.”
“Oh? And which Lord did you best?” Bartosch tossed him a wooden longsword. Hans didn’t need more rumours. But his eyes betrayed him by glancing at his Lord. ’Aw, shit,’ crossed his mind.
Bartosch snickered, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it to myself.”
The raven-haired knight took his spot opposite Henry.
Henry readied himself, grumbling a “thanks” that came out a little rougher than he intended. Unlike his duel with Olda, Henry kept his guard held high. And waited for Bartosch to make the first move.
“You sure you want to fight without a helmet? Doesn’t seem like a fair fight.” He sounded too concerned while also being very confident in his abilities.
Henry huffed, “It’ll be fine.”
With a ‘hmm’, Bartosch removed his helmet, leaving it on a post of the fence. He looked back at Henry with that playful spark, standing at the ready. Henry’s head was already spinning with “Preferences” replaying, and he wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes on the ground, safely away from the other man.
Bartosch struck quickly at his left.
He moved on instinct to parry, following with a riposte that was easily dodged. Bartosch put some distance between them again. Fluid and graceful. Henry followed those well-placed steps. They gave nothing away, forcing Henry to raise his eyes, trailing over Bartosch’s strong frame.
“Preferences.” He could practically hear him all soft, inviting. It was enough to make his skin crawl, and his blood pound. Henry shook his head, and in that split second Bartosch feinted right, landing a quick jab to Henry’s chest.
Henry leapt away. “Damn! You’re fast.”
Bartosch encircled Henry with a clear smirk on his lips. Those deep, warm eyes were taking in more than just Henry’s stance. Blood was already rising in his cheeks, and he took a breath, moving his gaze to focus solely on Bartosch’s sword arm. This just needed to come to an end. Henry lunged to his left, meeting a block. Then went for Bartosch’s open side. The knight met his strike, wavering at the impact, even retreating a few steps.
“Nice.” He sounded very pleased. “Your strength is excellent. Decent defence, but a bit slow to strike.”
The compliment went unheard. “All of that from a few strikes?”
His focus was solely on the ‘slow’ part. With new determination, Henry swung at the knight with three strikes. With ease, Bartosch dodged two and blocked the last.
That devious smirk returned. “You were faster last night.”
Henry went for him again, completely frustrated while in shades of very pink. With full force, He brought the wooden sword down, and Bartosch’s block couldn’t stop the tip of the sword biting into his shoulder. But the knight didn’t back off; this time he pushed into Henry’s sword, grabbed his arm and swung him towards the fence. As Henry stumbled, the flat of Bartosch’s blade smacked across his backside.
Bartosch laughed, a smooth, rich melody that Henry immediately hated, but he was attracted to. What was with this man? Everything about him was enticing, confusing.
“Brute strength won’t work on every opponent. Some require a little finesse to finish.” The way he said that last word, Bartosch had to be referring to something else. Something shouldn’t- couldn’t be thinking about. With swords- just swords.
“Are we duelling or dancing?” Henry snapped. It was the best insult he could think of in his mortified state.
In a hushed tone, “My hands aren’t on you enough to be dancing.” He ran his hand through his black, silky hair, then gave Henry a wink. “Come on now, this time don’t let me mess with your head so easily this time.”
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My very own Hansry fic.
So I have not been posting much, mostly because I have been creating!
I’ve had this fic under lock and key since early 2025 and I am finally confident enough to share this.
It’s 17 chapters now but I am working on it actively.
Keep in mind that English is not my native language.
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Since we’re all posting our Bohemian Raphsodies. I am shocked I got anything to do with exploring considering the second I got to Kuttenberg I just stopped
