1. Hector

    Private The Ballad of the Blighted Shore

    It was easy to follow the signs left behind by Syr Sabinian. Even through the darkness of the night, their practice and training made it familiar. The seals of the mirror moon, catching the moon's light like a shimmer across puddle and stream, just as the eyes hit the right angle. A bit of the...
  2. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Hector's eyes fell to his book. Open and pushed before him. He let the words sink in a long and quiet moment that let the fire crackles hiss and sing their little flameborne laughs. "I will see that your sister receives your words, Master Magnar," he said calm as the night air. Took up his...
  3. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    Lefelen stared a while longer at the bit of mummery that mused through Forbítter's fuzzy muzzle. "I see," he said the words as his lips coiled. Snapped the spyglass shut, and stashed it away at a pouch on his belt. "Depends on if its a new gheist, or and old gheist," Syr Sando chimed. Sucked...
  4. Hector

    Private An Ash Strewn Hope [M]

    A week's ride west of Astenvale and the Order's Monastery, Knights of Anatheaum rode. Across fields and hills claimed by petty barons and marcher lords, they rode. Crossed the banners of Rodhan, and Hvithelm, whose threads still snapped their warning high on towers, across bridges, and before...
  5. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Come the pat, and come the walking off. Hector was left with not but the stir and swirl of it all. And the worried visage of a mother, who knew nothing of what became her daughter. Starmarked. Hector knew it called. Shroudspun. He had heard others name it. Magicked. Bewitched. Endaemoned...
  6. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Hector's brow quirked. Sworn man of Lord Kazarine? He shook the thought away. Spooned down another bit of stew. To be so tangled in such lies. It made little sense to him. Though. What made sense in this day and age, save the warm soup in his bowl and the sweet drink in his flagon? He let...
  7. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Hector sat within the Thiel home. At their table. Given drink and food that steamed with all its warmth and promise. Shown hospitality. Kindness. As they did for Willard. Had done so prior. And Hector's sworn brother, Willard, had ridden in with Venla Thiel, all those months ago. Daughter to...
  8. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Hector couldn't help but smile at the guffaw that had bellowed out of the big man's big chest. The whole sound of it filled the room. Mistress Thiel, Saara, didn't seem none too bothered by the formal address. Even so, Hector's face ran warm. Mayhaps in part due to the warmth that swirled...
  9. Hector

    Private The only brew for the brave and true

    Hector bowed his head to the man, fingers tugging at the wide brim of his brown leather cap. "Evening to you as well, ser," Didn't sound so easy as when Syr Sando drawled it out. Then, the scruffy old Syr had a way about his dealings. "From Astenvale..." A twitch of the ear at the surprise...
  10. Hector

    Private The Ballad of the Blighted Shore

    Hector mulled over the prospect of what awaited them. Willard needed deliver a letter, whilst the rest of the party moved onward, unto the Lady Lark of the Lanes'. Hector only hoped that shew as well when they met her, and not a pruned corpse fetid with bloat. "You know what you are going...
  11. Hector

    Private The Ballad of the Blighted Shore

    Hector blinked. Letting all that had just been put to the wind catch about his ears and sink in. "Well, how generous of her," he said with a hint of play on his tongue. "To leave so catchy a tune to spur us on toward the mouth of these perils." Hector but put heel to horse, and turned his roan...
  12. Hector

    Private The Ballad of the Blighted Shore

    Rigid fingers folded over the fine vellum. Wound it tight about the bones with twists of wrist until it squeezed shut. The warm sweet scent that had wafted up from the letter, still tingling about each of his breaths. "Why does this feel like such a trap?" Hector said with a half laugh...
  13. Hector

    Private Grounded to Correctness

    Landed the hit. Parted the way with a back step. Sword's point low and long behind him in the tailed stance. "Pray tell, Is something the bother Syr?" no heat to it. A firm concern, measured with respect. Bounce to his knees. He wondered in earnest, why the sky knight seemed more stone, than...
  14. Hector

    Private Grounded to Correctness

    Come the clean swipe, the distance put there betwixt their swords' reach, push step back, sword couched at shoulder with blade high in the roof's angled guard. Faster. Harder. But his feder's reach would be shorter. His feet however, they stepped over stepped about the linear diver. Smile on...
  15. Hector

    Private Grounded to Correctness

    Lines felt through the toes, as they planted across the dust of the training yard. Thrust one. Thrust two. Air. Metal. Probes and tests. On third, the edges held. The line diverted from the push of strong against weak. Initiative. With a willingness to bend. Like water turned roots pass the...
  16. Hector

    Private Grounded to Correctness

    A twist of wrist a turn of blade, a step to on the follow up strike. A thwack on across the chest, from collar down to third rib. Hector smiled. Stepped back. Set again. "Well, then, lets go again?" he said easy.
  17. Hector

    Private Grounded to Correctness

    Hector's ears twitched to the sound of Syr Montbank's worries. "Well, there's not much to it than to do it, I reckon, Syr," salute offered and salute returned. Feder sword taken in both hands, and raised to a high pointed guard, shoulders bladed, knees bent easy. He would not wait. Once the...
  18. Hector

    Open A Festival of Lights

    Hector looked at the knight in red. His own cup full and warmed with hot apple drink, spiced with cinnamon and ginger, splashed with a touch of Arshakan rum. "Say what?" he managed to say through the warm bloom of blush that spread across his face. Needle in one hand, steaming swirl of drink...
  19. Hector

    Kindling

    "Well, that has a nice smooth action, doesn't it?" Hector smiled down at the little wooden figure in his hands. Proud of how well the coiled spring at its carved out ball core stretched and bent and held together. "A real dancer," "Dancer?!" Squire Giffon protested. "Here I was, tryin t' make...
  20. Hector

    Open None to point

    It was all jostle and bump. Rattle and roll. The sounds of Edwynna hurrying to pack the mule she had gone and acquired. Fuck Sumu. Fuck the villagers, and fuck anyone who would protest. She was getting as far fucking away from here as possible. As soon as possible. Pulled the ties down on the...
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