1. Faramund

    Private Nightwork

    There were three more bodies in the yard; two men and one young boy. All had suffered the same fate as the man lying beyond the gateway, but these ones at least possessed weapons of a sort. A pitchfork and an axe, and a sword that looked like it had spent too many years rusting away above a...
  2. Faramund

    Private As Above, So Below

    'Lero?' Or was it Liro? Faramund's memories were incomplete, but he recalled having faced down a Cultist by a similar name beneath the streets of Crown's Hold. 'Pale fellow, bald, with scars like thus?' He gestured, drawing invisible lines across face and throat. The officer nodded, brow...
  3. Faramund

    Private For Whom the Bell Tolls

    'Right. Of course. Was that before or after she got her ass kicked?' Starting up the slope after Aarno, Faramund's gaze lingered on the lighthouse. Namely, on the form slumped at its foot. 'Hate to say this, brother, but I think we may have made a mistake in coming here.' It was a knight's...
  4. Faramund

    Private For Whom the Bell Tolls

    'How about you leave the fool-ass questions to me,' replied Faramund, smiling up at Aarno through gritted teeth. Blood stained the rings of mail covering his side, turning the water in which he lay red. A dramatic scene, to be sure. The act of dying sometimes was. 'Nevermind me!' He swore...
  5. Faramund

    Private For Whom the Bell Tolls

    Bloodied but unbroken, the dawnling smiled in the face of death. 'You're right,' he said, back arching, head tilting back as the claws came for him again. A narrow miss. 'I'd probably give you the shits.' Pushing off his right leg, he drove in close, dealing a decisive cut to the creature's...
  6. Faramund

    Private As Above, So Below

    With a nod, Faramund went. Womenfolk clutched their pearls as the ship continued to shake, the crackle of vox-talk doing little to calm their fraying nerves. The menfolk weren't much better. One, a paunchy fellow with jaundiced skin, tried to stop Faramund as he stalked past. 'You there!' He...
  7. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    Corpse-cold and clawing, Faramund took Mina into his arms without hesitation. Time was of the essence, and like always, they had little enough to spare. Even so, the dawnling couldn't help but linger as his brother called out to him, instructing him towards another passageway, once hidden behind...
  8. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    Footsteps echoing in the dark, the dawnling walked. Blank, expressionless, he sweated beneath stolen robes, unable to break free of the spell he found himself under. The Shaper's words echoed in his mind, a bad memory made worse by the remembering. A red face lingered in his thoughts - a mask...
  9. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    The pressure eased, and the doppler was thankful for it. 'Tea?' It asked, straightening up, a bead of blood trailing slowly downwards, following the contours of a face it had worn for the last ten years. Longer, perhaps. 'No, thank you. I am not thirsty.' A lie, that. The Doppler knew lying to...
  10. Faramund

    Private As Above, So Below

    Faramund felt the deck beneath his boots vibrate as a shiver ran through the ship. The light in the lounge dimmed in and out as power from the Vasdaya's shroud-engines fluctuated sporadically. 'Is this normal?' He heard a nearby passenger ask, their hands pressed firmly into the table at which...
  11. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    Faramund didn't respond immediately. In truth, he wasn't sure he wanted to. 'It's where the Cult forges its weapons,' he explained, vaguely. 'It's where... where they take those they capture.' Castor was not a bad man. Faramund knew that. He was skilled and he was able, and when he fought, he...
  12. Faramund

    Private As Above, So Below

    Checking his periphery, Faramund kept his eye on Yesna as Bebin interceded. 'Months? Really?!' Feigning interest, the dawnling took glass in hand as the bartender moved off to quench another's thirst. 'A lifer, aye, in service to Viscount Hargrave of Stellenger.' The red cloak was a dead...
  13. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    "Only Seen are allowed to witness.' Turning slowly, Faramund held steady as the guard slid from the shadows to bar their way. Bald and broad-shouldered, the man had all the complexion of a corpse, and not a very handsome one at that. 'Only Seen are allowed to witness.' Again, he spoke, his...
  14. Faramund

    Private Nightwork

    Quiet and careful, right. Stifling an enigmatic smile, Faramund let the Pursuant's words lead him back to the body lying out in the open. 'Not yet,' he confessed, sensing Oliver's anxiety and doing his best to dispel it. 'Mind you, if the fellow is pretending, he's doing an awfully good job.'...
  15. Faramund

    Private For Whom the Bell Tolls

    The beastkin was unlike any Faramund had ever seen, though a part of him refused to be intimidated by the fact. Tall, muscular, its anatomy reminded him of the centaur-folk of the wild North. Hooved feet, arms as thick as tree stumps. Talons for shredding, antlers for skewering. And there...
  16. Faramund

    Private As Above, So Below

    Smiling abashedly, Faramund rubbed the back of his neck. Not sure that's true, he thought, unwilling to accept Bebin's compliment. The one he received from the bartender, however, was another matter entirely. 'Thank you for noticing.' Glancing across to the tender, the dawnling nodded before...
  17. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    Faramund returned Castor's look, shrugged. 'It's not an illusion, that's for damned sure.' Staring up at the rockface, the dawnling sniffed, took a step closer. The ground leading up to it had been worn down beneath a hundred bootheels, and there were slight grooves where something heavier had...
  18. Faramund

    Private The Tools of My Enemy

    'I think we're fucked no matter what we do,' Faramund said with a smile. 'But, if it were up to me, I'd avoid talking to this lot unless I had no other choice. One wrong word and suddenly it's blades bared.' And we both know how that would go. No, they would have to be subtle and smart with it...
  19. Faramund

    Private Nightwork

    'None. Hide nor hair.' His voice little more than a whisper, Faramund studied the farmhouse as Oliver settled in his periphery. He had applied dirt to his forehead, brow, nose and eyes in preparation for a closer look. Breklinn had taken his bascinet into her safekeeping. Upon seeing the...
  20. Faramund

    Private As Above, So Below

    'What he said,' the dawnling echoed, clinking glasses and tossing it back. Cocktails had never really been his thing, in truth, but the dusker had recommended giving it a try, and Bebin had yet to let him down. In life or in liquor. 'Not half bad,' he confessed, loud enough for the bartender to...
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