*The Kilted Barbarian stumbles into the firelight. His helmet sits askew on his head. Ash smudges one cheek and reddens the eye above it. His tunic is rent through and blood – not his own – stains his clothing. His shoulders slump and he drops onto a log as though his legs suddenly lost all strength. *
Sorry. It’s … it’s been a week. The school year is ending all over the place (though some places don’t end for another week or two. Or three) and here at Caer Dave, things are no different. Domesticity is hell, you savage horde. I’ve baked, cooked, cleaned, and I’m still behind. I swear this isn’t going to be a long-term pattern. On the other hand, Mrs. Dave heads back out into the howling wastes in the near future, so who knows what’s going to go down. Continue reading “Dave Goes Barbarian: Here, Hold This”