1. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    There came no sound but the clack of claw against cold stone. Step after steady step, the Keeper's keys stayed silent. A placid eye of pewter, wide upon silver helm, began to come alight. Runes of Loch and Death, language so familiar to the weavers of the Order, burned strange there upon the...
  2. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    "The child is gone," Bebin said without breath. "Our brothers have walked into a trap," he turned his eyes forward. "We go to spring them out," moved on toward the Mount. In the holding cells, all manner of souls waited about in defeat. Some chained to the stone, left to hang against their...
  3. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    A pain like a nail driven through the skull. Bebin pressed a thumb to the side of his nose. Huffed hard to spatter the blood born of his cranium about the floor. Wiped what mess away from bristling whiskers. Slung his bow over his shoulder as the scythe wielder twitched a mess upon the earth...
  4. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    It was a dull sound that thumped the wind. A sharp whistle as arrow and shaft split the air. A punch through cloth and leather hard enough to tear through flesh. One man fell. The one with broken bones screamed. Cold horror mixed with the fire to fight as he stumbled away from the Sunless...
  5. Bebin

    Private As Above, So Below

    Bebin gazed down at the young man, draped in his Ring's shroud. "First Weaver Tildara," Bebin corrected. "An excellent judge of character," He'd never known the Rings to call their tutors Matrons nor Fathers. Their pursuits of the Shroud far removed from most binary thoughts. Titles denoted...
  6. Bebin

    Private As Above, So Below

    A hint of a laugh, there on her lips. "S' my job to notice," she dipped her head. "But you are welcome all the same," she said easy as she went on with her work. A young and curious face approached their party. "M-malik?" caution full in the voice, as a ledger was clutched the tighter to...
  7. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    In the mind, at the Mount. The edges blurred. Splintered and washed away, ever just, as each waning pulse, ebbed and ebbed with the last bolts of life that stormed there in the grey. Ate away at the vision. Halls of cold stone. Metal twisted about the paths. Wrought into hinges and locks that...
  8. Bebin

    Private As Above, So Below

    Fingers flexed, and coiled quick to answer. Nothing. But his solemn disposition maintained its cool composure. "I've learned to trust the fair Mund, young Lord," Bebin said, with a swirl of his drink clutched in his hands. The spice and citrus mixed sweetly in the effervescent crisp of the...
  9. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    Still in the dream of a dying mind, Bebin stood still in the waking world. Bent low to the fast-dead man. Finger pressed betwixt their brows where a third eye might open. Breath calm. Rhythm steady. His own eyes closed to the waking world, though the light of Loch traced and shimmered cross...
  10. Bebin

    Private As Above, So Below

    "It is not my first time departing from Cloud Keep's docks, young Lord," the Dusker reasoned with the youth. A welcome crook to his lip. "But mayhaps, I'll see the sights before we make landing," Worse things in the world than a well mannered noble. Far worse. A moonglow smile turned...
  11. Bebin

    Private As Above, So Below

    Upon the wooden boards that lined the deck, sat folded upon himself, Bebin. Eyes shut to the light of the world about him. The sounds of the ship. Creaks and hums. The high song of shroud-engines hard at work to keep the lift-balloons full. All distant. Muffled. As if they wove through thick...
  12. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    There in the dark waters betwixt life and death. Those moments where the mind still raced, though the heart had stilled. A shell within a shell. The last storms of life that raged before the final night. Bebin could see the many ripples of moments shimmer across the swell of waves that surged...
  13. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    The violence was quick. Measured. Without mercy or hesitation. Dulled thrums from a silenced string saw arrows streak to bring down one that had threatened Faramund. Another that broke away from the black pitch sun, who had come cracking skulls like a revenant made real. Half a scream ripped...
  14. Bebin

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    "First to arrive them?" he said to Syr Vega. A nod, something like approval behind the glint of his eye. His pack lugged over his shoulder. Supplies more for the road, than for the mission itself. "One wonders who will be the last to depart," he said with a grin as he came to stop at his horses...
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