1. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'Anythin' else, Your Highness?' Faramund asked, leading Tribe into the shade of a nearby ash tree, fingers trailing reins whilst his offhand pryed bascinet from bonce. 'A sword that swings itself, perchance?' Quips and quibbles. Jests and japes well-intentioned ribbings. Idle talk to pass the...
  2. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    If luck were on our side, none of us would be here, the dawnling grimaced, unable to bring himself to speak the thoughts plaguing his mind. Sometimes, hope was all one had left to hold onto, and to deprive Osytha of hers seemed wrong. Rude, even. 'Double the watch, aye, and run the lads through...
  3. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'I'll ask Syr Conroy if I cannae borrow some o' his frilly britches for the occasion,' the Mund replied, dry as the saltpans surrounding Lower Alessia, though not quite so pale. Not even when Osytha's timbre tilted, grew stark, and serious. 'Not one to go cryin' wolf, even when it bares it...
  4. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'Not much chance o' that, this early in the morn,' the dawnling replied, pressing to his feet alongside Osytha before the copse mistook him for one of its own. 'But then I s'pose discretion is the better part of valour,' he mock grumbled, seeing off the last of his bread afore Nan could take the...
  5. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'I slept.' Faramund answered, eyeing the dusker sidelong as he tore his bread ration in twain, so as to break his fast rather than his teeth. 'No late night visitors, mind, though I did catch a glimpse of somethin' sniffin' 'bout the perimeter, just afore sunup.' An animal of some kind, most...
  6. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Dawn took its time to arrive. Seeing it in, Faramund remained at his post until the sun had fully grasped the horizon, red sky reminiscent of lifeblood, though a damned sight prettier to behold. As always, the hounds were the first to rise, padding about camp like they owned the place. Good...
  7. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'It's a tale alright!' Evelyn replied with a flash of teeth. 'Another time, perhaps. Y'know what they say about lettin' sleepin' dogs lie.' Syr Guffers twitched and turned, burrowing into Faramund's leg with a long, contented sigh. Little fellah was comfortable, no doubt about it. Faramund had...
  8. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    The dawnling's expression shifted to one of mock disbelief. 'Don't fancy humpin' poor ole Bertha here back to camp, huh,' he huffed, dark eyes glimmering in the half-light as he held out a hand, palm up, awaiting the rope and vessel the dusker had alluded to only a few moments ago. 'Alright...
  9. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    It was a good shot, the kind one made through years of training, trial and error. Faramund reckoned he could not have done any better if he tried. 'That's a fine aim you've got, Osy,' the dawnling answered with a grunt, descending the slope with long, bounding strides. She had picked her target...
  10. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'Maybe,' the dawnling acquiesced with a nod, 'maybe not.' He didn't have it in him to argue on the finer points of his character, lacking as it was. 'One thing I am certain of is that wisdom is not borne of age nor ensured by it,' he continued, bending at the waist to give Syr Guffers a...
  11. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Whilst Osytha and her dog investigated their findings, Faramund moved further ahead, his profile lowered, two hands on the too-long stave he had been given for the hunt. The spear's length would come in handy if any of the porkers decided to rush him, but the trees and foliage were a nuisance he...
  12. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    'No shit.' Faramund's smile was a fleeting thing, barely there. William was an orphan. No parents or grandparents to speak of, no neighbours or cousins or friends. He had just appeared one day, straw doll in hand, caked in mud and soot and not much else. A survivor of some horror his little mind...
  13. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Having dispatched a veritable army of foragers to search the surrounding landscape, the two knights set off towards the copse with nary a wasted second. Shouldering the spear like he was a soldier in some noble laird's army, Faramund fell into step alongside Osytha, strides shortened out of...
  14. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    Faramund followed Osytha's gaze down to his dirty feet. Another young syr had once remarked that he possessed toes as thick as thumbs. Of course, he had answered by pointing out that thumbs tended to vary per the hand they belonged to, but that was a whole conversation he would rather not see...
  15. Faramund

    Private Now Hands That Build

    It wasn't right, but what could they do? Walking ahead of the procession, boots slung over one shoulder, Faramund kept his eyes on the horizon whilst his mind lingered behind. Following the beaten path, he allowed his thoughts to meander, like the road itself seemed to do every so often, as if...
  16. Faramund

    Open A Festival of Lights

    'Oh, aye, and with the brisk wind pinchin' me earholes closed, I'll be certain t' ignore said order,' he gruffed, gold-flecked eyes full of mirth as he turned them on the dusker. 'Well, least there's less o' you t' get cold,' replied the dawnling, the guilt of yesterdays receding, if but a day...
  17. Faramund

    Open A Festival of Lights

    The bundles dug into the knight's shoulders as he walked, halfway to nowhere, if only in his mind. 'Uneven steps... weight on the heel, more oft than not.' Observations spoken aloud, answered by a fierce wind, cold as it was biting. The oil lamp hooked through his belt fluttered and swayed as...
  18. Faramund

    Private Where the Light Returns

    Faramund's knife hovered halfway to the spread, crooked as the grin he wore, though no less sharp. 'Aye, a venerable elder, so you are.' There had been a time, not so long ago, when the two of them would've struggled being in the same room together. Now, whatever once-quarrel they had shared...
  19. Faramund

    Hub Breaking Bread at the Knoll

    'Hmm. I'd be more concerned with Syr Darthinian putting something in your drink, friend Thiel,' mumbled the Mund, shroud-frost nipping at his fingers, as if to hurry him along his chosen path. The look in Petra's eye bade him pause and frown. 'What? Is there something on my face?' A clawed hand...
  20. Faramund

    Hub Breaking Bread at the Knoll

    A shadow followed Syr Darthinian into the Knoll. Big, burly, it moved in silence after her, an after-image of what once was. Habits died harder than the fool's that adopted them. And I am certainly that, thought the Mund, not bothering to sweep the room as the Sun settled down at their backs...
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