Recent content by Aramis

"Don't worry Dorka, she's here for me," Aramis purred and let his hand lightly brush the other woman's shoulder as he passed. Instantly the innkeeper seemed to relax and looked up at the Dreadlord with a bright smile, all traces of anger gone. "Oh, I didn't realise Sir. You know them Rangers...

Aramis' grin was like that of a Cheshire Cats. "Excellent!" he downed the rest of his glass and then stood, collecting the elegant satchel he carried with him. "I'm staying at the Rose and Lion on Sycamore Grove, meet me there tomorrow morning with your things at 8 sharp. The boat leaves at 9,"...

"Oh everything, little dove," Aramis' eyes seemed to dance in the firelight. "Zrada has to march to the whims and wishes of the rich who fund it. For years I was doing portraits of young ladies sat in libraries, or with swans," his eyes rolled dramatically. "And young noble men sitting on horses...

The ghosts that danced in her eyes, the bitter twist of her lips, the shadows from the fireplace... Kress but his fingers itched to paint. He tapped them out in an irregular pattern against the glass instead. "The architecture there is like nothing else in this world. They stack their homes on...

"Haven't you heard, darling?" Aramis drawled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass and gifting her with the type of smile that made girls sigh and mothers worry. "It's all about choice now in the Republic." Tipping his head he downed what remained of its content then held it out to be...

"Can't it be both?" Aramis countered and swirled the piss poor excuse for whisky the bar had in his glass. The amber liquid caught the light of the crackling flames turning it brighter. The shade caught his attention and he committed it to memory to capture it later on. Perhaps if he added...

Alliria was a love letter, and Aramis the lover. There were plenty of classically beautiful places in Aniria. There were feats of the imagination in Dornoch. Romance in every curve of the Empire's temples... but none of them held a candle to the delicious clash of architecture, ideas and art...

The woman stirred in her chains at the sound of voices and lifted her head to look at the Dreadlords gathered, pleadingly. "What did I say about moving, mon chéri?" Aramis' voice was better suited to a bedroom than a dungeon but the woman shuddered at it with nothing but fear. Her eyes squeezed...

The older gentleman stared back. From the slight curve of his lips he seemed to be hoping the young upstart attempted to throw his weight around enough that he could be excused for mopping the floor with him. It would not take much for the First Level to erase the whole group of brats from...

He would have to watch these four though no more than the other Dreadlords who he did not know but welcomed here to help further his vision. Aramis had no desire to rule, but what he did desire he would have. Whether these four stayed alive long enough to share it with him was yet to be seen...

Aramis calmly turned his gaze to the small ember-girl and whilst his smile was as sweet as honey, the energy that burned behind it was not so kind. "What you claim is on behalf of all of us, dearie. There's no room here for yours and ours," he leaned back in his chair and raised his glass to...

As the children spoke, Aramis lit another cigarette taken from a slim silver box that he set to one side. Taking one deep draw whilst he loosened his tie, he then released the smoke upwards so as not to offend anyone with the smell should they not like the slightly sweet tang. Aramis might have...

Aramis folded himself into a wingback chair by one of the three fireplaces, though the only one not occupied. A few of the other Dreadlords gathered quietly put books or games down and made their way out of the room, few with a nod of respect to the painter who absently picked at a dried spot of...

"You know me, Lars, always out recruiting," Aramis purred and folded the umbrella neatly away once his small little gathering of youngsters had stepped onto the porch out of the drizzle. He wouldn't want the little firecracker to get wet now, would he? He had settled on how he would capture her...

Aramis threw Shilo a rather doubtful look but he didn't refuse to take the younger Dreadlord with him. Instead, he merely inclined his head to Sybille, of whom he was already imagining a thousand ways to paint to capture the exact shade of her hair, and then started off through the rest of the...