1. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'Yes, it was.' Strigòi mort. Cursed One. The kind of creature parents warned their children of to keep them from straying too far into the Untold. There be monsters here, so behave! Nobody ever imagined there was any truth to the stories passed from one generation to the next; the tales were...
  2. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    The alarm shrilled and the beast struck, quick as lightning. Throwing himself to the side, Faramund felt something sharp snag his sleeve. Pain welled in his arm as the Strigoi bore past, a figment of imagination made real, fur so dark it could have filled the space betwixt stars. Warm blood...
  3. Faramund

    Private Forced Divide

    Too soon, the signal went out, summoning the newbloods into the fray. With no need to pick and choose, Faramund surrendered himself to the churn, blade flicking out to crease a face from earlobe to jawbone. The man gurgled and wheezed, club clacking against the floorboards as he rushed to stem...
  4. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Sithee mern, thought Faramund, gazing into the flames as Osytha went away, off to the Land of Nod. Guffers settled down where the blanket overflowed the dusker's frame. Yawning, the pup laid down his head atop his paws, pitch black eyes holding true to Faramund a moment, as if committing him to...
  5. Faramund

    Private Forced Divide

    Handing his sabre to Lethram, Faramund rushed to assist his Dawn sister as she dragged the unfortunate lump out of sight, hoisting the man up by his arms whilst Cyd handled his legs. Faramund did him the favour of tucking him in. It was cold out, after all, and no one deserved to wake up only to...
  6. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Her words lulled him into a wishful state of thought. Soft. Melodic, almost. Aye, yesterday was done, and no amount of reflection on his part could undo that which haunted him. And yet emotion had never been a slave to reason. Letting go of the guilt, turning a blind eye to his fears and...
  7. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'I trust you, with my life.' Faramund did not draw away or retreat within himself. Bad habits died hard, and yet, despite it all, Osytha was right. He was trying. But my troubles are my own, thought the dawnling, scratching Guffers between his floppy ears, earning a contented grumble, the kind...
  8. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Kind. Faramund found that difficult to believe. I killed two men today, he thought, quietly. One of them couldn't have been much older than Osytha. I wonder what his life would have amounted to, had he not encountered me? Perhaps he would have ended his days dancing at the end of a rope, the...
  9. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Sando, Bebin and Rimebol. Three powerhouses, in their own right, though the Eight knew how much of a cunt Syr Rimebol could be given half a chance. As to Kabilar of Svapna, well, his was a name that echoed through the ages. History was chockful of lessons just waiting to be learnt. A pity. Most...
  10. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    The Mund's eyes widen at the strange expression. 'Quack, quack,' he replies, his voice a whisper. Placing his sword belt aside, he crumpled backwards, arm tucked to cushion the back of his head as he joins in stargazing. 'She's fine, just a graze,' he says, idly brushing his temple, unsure as to...
  11. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    With the field cleared and daylight waning, the decision was made to set camp for the night. Dismounting, the goodfolk fell into the rhythm established over the course of weeks: tents were offloaded and raised whilst the light remained to them; foraging parties went about gathering up kindling...
  12. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'No arguing.' Crisis averted, Faramund slipped from his saddle to join Osytha in the dust as Lesota's outburst comes to an abrupt end, spear snatched and discarded like so much firewood. Glancing around, the dawnling lifted helm and hood, revealing a face plastered in sweat. The injured horse...
  13. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Contrary to the tales bards tell, of whooshing arrows and archers built like brick shithouses, rarely does one hear the arrow coming until it is too late. The one that kills the Hvithelmer does so with a thwack reminiscent of bone breaking under tremendous force. Faramund knows. It is a sound he...
  14. Faramund

    Private Forced Divide

    'Looked scared shitless,' replied the Mund, 'but otherwise well enough.' The clipped horns were new, the result of getting into bed with bad people. Odd, really. Sverod was a coward, not a fool. Getting roped into shady dealings by shadier folk was just something the Mund couldn't see happening...
  15. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Four against seven. Ermines, Stripes, and a lone Cockerel out of his depth and floundering. Not bad odds, considering. Faramund had expected more. Don't count your chickens just yet, he warned himself, legs straight, blade bared, thirsting for the bloodletting to come. Tribe fell in line with...
  16. Faramund

    Private Forced Divide

    The month of Hochtar, 351 E.O.D A league from Akkelon, City of Silver What goes around comes around... Something was not quite right with Innkeeper Sverod. Faramund knew it, he just couldn't prove it. It's the eyes, he remembered thinking the moment fate had brought him face-to-face with the...
  17. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Faramund watched as the space betwixt trunks came alive with movement, shadowed forms darting hither and yon, drawing the eye and generally doing a piss poor job of going unseen. 'Uh huh.' Donning hood and bascinet, the dawnling remained steadfast as hooves thundered up behind them. 'What've...
  18. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'You do that,' the dawnling replied, turning in place. 'Mockin' up a charge with Forbs 's like as not to turn into the real thing,' he continued, gazing down at the dusker, a small grin easing his words along. 'I jest, of course. Forbítter is a lovely horse, very approachable, not like t' bite...
  19. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'At the very least we'll be able to knock some confidence into them, ensure they don't break and run the second things kick off.' Cavalry loved nothing more than to ride down fleeing peasantry, and a turned back was sure to attract attention, since the bastards had already shown they were...
  20. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Two or three hours? Great. 'I'll show some optimism for a change, wager four,' said the knight, plucking a dandelion from the wayside and twiddling it twixt thumb and forefinger, just one more for the Road. 'I s'pose we should approach this carefully,' the dawnling nodded, slipping the flower...
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