1. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    Etain sat her saddle like a slab of iron, full plate dark with mud and drying blood, visor down, gauntlets resting heavy on the reins. She watched the farewells with the sort of interest one gives to weather. Hands clasped. Words traded about thunder and plains. All very fine and The Selvari...
  2. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    The Captain’s laughter raked the air clean. “If you want sweet words, Captain, you hired the wrong d'Aramond.” Etain grunted. “Legate sounds like a prick, you should consider staying with us,” Even if her face was hidden behind the visor, one could hear the smirk in her voice. There were worse...
  3. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    Etain rode a little behind and to the side, just far enough to be out of the Captain’s shadow, just close enough to keep an eye on the priest in case he got stupid. The Captain questioned the priest. Etain only caught half of it. The column creaked and clattered through the dying light, hogs...
  4. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    “Aye, Captain,” she said, tone flat as hammered iron. She turned on her heel, blood-stiff braids swinging, and strode away from the Captain and the priest. Her boots crunched over splintered shields, discarded spears, and the odd hand that hadn’t been attached firmly enough to its owner. Her...
  5. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    The smoke of the burning pavilions swirled around them, thick and bitter. Behind them, someone screamed. Ahead, someone else shouted orders. Blackshields picked through bodies and loot piles with the bored focus of men and women doing a familiar chore.. Silvani riders laughed as they stripped...
  6. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    Etain spotted the body by the stream the way a wolf spots a sheep limping. Half by movement, half by instinct. A scrap of robe in all this soot and ruin. She skidded the last few steps down the embankment, boots splashing in the shallows. “You picked a piss-poor place for a nap.” A man, a...
  7. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    They hit the camp like a thrown axe and stuck just as deep. Tents collapsed under panicked horses, hogs barreled through men like living battering rams. The hogs smashed into the line of pikes from behind, and the formation folded like wet parchment. Men screamed. Some tried to surrender. Around...
  8. Etain d'Aramond

    Private To Fill the Father's Cup

    “Kill, kill, and kill again!” Etain felt the weight of her black armor bite into her shoulders as she lunged into the chaos. The smell of blood was thick, almost sweet under the pine smoke, but the stench of piss was sharper still. A horse reared nearby, its rider crushed beneath it. The body...
  9. Etain d'Aramond

    Open None to point

    She surfaced with a snarl in her throat and a mouth full of mud. The stink of the bog was in her throat, her mouth, her hair. Etain wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, smearing more filth across her face as she shoved herself up to her knees. Her leg screamed the whole way, blood soaking...
  10. Etain d'Aramond

    Open None to point

    Behind them, the Revenant plunged. Etain's boots sank into the muck with every step, water and filth sucking at her feet. Josephine’s hooves hit waterlogged root. The knightess hand was tight on the mare’s bridle, guiding her, steadying her, murmuring, “Come on girl, almost through this!” The...
  11. Etain d'Aramond

    Open None to point

    Her good hand a white-knuckled vice on the reins as Josephine lunged beneath them. The sword knocked hard against her spine with every gallop. Josephine's flanks heaved beneath them. She felt Hector’s weight jostle against her back, his breath ragged against her shoulder. Gorenwood. Etain's...
  12. Etain d'Aramond

    Private The Bride's Gift Is Blood

    Etain sat rigid under Mender’s needle, feeling the pull and pinch of it as the medicae stitched up her brow. Etain's face still ached. Her limbs were leaden. She'd likely piss blood by morning. Each joint protesting like rusty hinges. But Agatha’s words settled into her bones like warmth in...
  13. Etain d'Aramond

    Open None to point

    She had faced men in armor. Walls of cavalry. Screaming charges through fog and fire. But this… Etain froze. Like a child. The kid that saw too much too young, and knew exactly what she was looking at. The Revenant moved in the way monsters in nightmares moved. Its gait was a grinding dirge...
  14. Etain d'Aramond

    Private The Bride's Gift Is Blood

    “I’ll ride the joust tomorrow,” she said, mouth quirking despite the split at her brow. “Promised Josephine we would." Etain glanced toward Mender, who was hovering with needle and thread, and then back to Agatha. The calloused press of palm to palm spoke more than her words would do. I owe...
  15. Etain d'Aramond

    Private The Bride's Gift Is Blood

    She spared a glance at Agatha, who looked every bit as exhausted as Etain felt. Gauntlets tossed aside, cheeks flushed with sweat and grime, hair plastered and wild around her face. There was something fierce in that exhaustion, raw from battle and survival. “Joust’s tomorrow for me,” she said...
See more
Back
Top Bottom