Recent content by Afanas

Feyrith Afanas gave a slight shrug. “I never named the blade. It is but an instrument.” He drew his cloak about him, the folds falling to hide most of his shape. “My father is Vlakhos. In Epressa and Liadain, few know the name. Those who do call him the Outsider. The name fits. He says he was...

Feyrith “The sword is alive, in its way,” Afanas said. “It carries a hunger. Souls, from what I’ve seen.” He tapped the obsidian pommel with a claw’s idle touch, as though to rouse or mock it. “It cuts through most anything. Flesh and steel yield the same. I have turned its edge on ghosts, and...

Afanas’s gaze gentled as her defences faltered. Slowly, the corners of his mouth drew into a smile—awkward, uncertain, as though it had long been forgotten. His gums were black as void-water, smooth and faintly lustrous, and their stygian sheen set his ivory fangs aglow like moonlight on bone...

Feyrith Afanas nodded, slow and deliberate. He raised a hand and cupped her face. His flesh was warm, less than a man’s, yet far from cold, and smooth as polished marble that still breathed. “You must be an outcast,” he said. “Else you would not seek to bind your blade to the cause of surface...

Feyrith Afanas took her hand, his fingers long, pale, coiling with slow grace around hers. He pressed gently. The size gap was stark; her hand seemed a child’s within his grasp. “Be as it may,” he said, voice no harsher than a conspiratorial whisper, “you are yet a person. Whether sworn to a...

Feyrith Afanas lifted a brow. Her sea-talk carried strain. He marked it. Deep water and he did not agree. He moved slow. Deliberate. He offered his hand—plate-wide, pale. Skin taut; touch smooth. Fingers long; joints fine. Each finger tipped with black lacquer, one claw per digit, talons neat...

Feyrith Afanas’s gaze flicked to the board, cluster of papers pinned, notices ragged and sailing lists lined, cargo manifests folded close. The shifting shapes interested him not. He turned back, swift, deliberate. He regarded Feyrith, violet skin glowing faint beneath tavern gloom, and words...

Feyrith The woman, a slip of violet skin and hurried breath, had nearly struck his chest. For a moment, his frame stiffened. A taut, lean tension rippled through him, like a bowstring pulled too tight. Then, slowly, he exhaled. The stiffness drained from his limbs like heat from forged...

Koltûn A hush settled between them like silk drawn over steel. Koltûn’s echoing footfalls faded, and in the charged pause Afanas let the champion’s words ripen into something brittle. At last he spoke—his voice low, unhurried, carrying the chill of moonlit iron. “The King,” he murmured, the...

Koltûn Afanas rose from the basalt bench with the unhurried poise of a shadow slipping free of its moorings. Blood-spattered sand still hissed where scraps of troll-flesh smoldered, and the headless corpse lay twitching at the ring’s edge, but Koltûn had already turned his lion-shouldered back...

Koltûn Afanas reclined upon the basalt bench like some lean-limbed shadow cast in human guise, boots planted wide apart, hat brim hiding all but the knife-edge gleam of his eyes. Through the whole brutal bout he had watched in stillness, the trolls’ ruin mirrored in those black-flint pupils...

Vulpesen Afanas lifted a brow, his mouth flattening to a grim line. His voice, when it came, held a low, unhurried tone — the kind that carried in dark halls and battlefields alike. "You err," he said, the words simple, weighty. "I am no vampire." He let the sentence hang, heavy as a...

Vulpesen "The hour grows late," Afanas said, his voice low and even, his hands weaving a slow, indifferent gesture through the air. "I would wager Lord Iskandar is abed—or else keeping his doors barred against unwelcome callers." He leaned down slightly, the faintest glimmer of a smile on his...

Vulpesen “The Reikhurstan knights I’ve brought with me know of the fae—some better than others,” Afanas said, his voice even as a whetted blade. “Even the greenest among them has seen centuries pass in steel and blood. They’re no strangers to the unnatural, and they’ve hunted fairy-kind...

Vulpesen Nuir Carling d'Argent Afanas's boots slammed into the blood-soaked earth as he leapt, landing atop the writhing, spike-laden beast. The creature shrieked—its voice a shrill blend of rage and panic—as he straddled its armored back, talons scraping uselessly at the sand in its...